The scent of the earth filled every single one of my senses. The deep musk of soil was slightly overpowering. I felt like I could taste it, and it made me want to vomit. No, the soil’s smell wasn’t my problem. Not even close. No, it was the bitterness of knowing justice couldn’t be served—not while others’ lives were at stake.
My father was a sneaky, horrible, spiteful bastard, but even now, he always made sure his own agenda was the first priority. He had my mom. She was going to be hurt.
I didn’t know how to think or how to feel.
When my knelt posture didn’t help me get any control of my emotions, I slumped down, resting my cheek against my palms.
This was way too close to the dirt—to the possible spiders, ants, worms, and whatever other insects seemed to crawl all over grass—but I h
