SASA’S ROUGED CHEEKS, SASA’S REDDENED LIPS
“Sasa dear, don’t you think you’re making a mistake?” Mother asked, dipping two fingers into a bowl of warm rapeseed oil and massaging it into the knotty horns that protruded from the girl’s hairline. Horns that weren’t even as long as her pinky yet. Hadn’t even grown sharp.
“Not in the least.” Sasa’s toothy grin said it all.
Mother felt a weary sigh build in her chest, a sprig of anger tickled her tongue. Bitter. Delicious. This was a battle she was losing, but she had to try.
“You realize your brothers are furious?” Mother wiped her hands on a torn shred of cloth and reached for another ceramic bowl. “And if your father were here—”
“I don’t care what they think,” Sasa interrupted. “They don’t know him. They’re just jealous.”
Jealous, Mothe
