“They hurt you,” Logan said, touching his knuckles to my cheek and bringing me back to the present. I could still see the anger in his eyes, feel it cool the air, now mixed with sympathy for me. Although my mother was never there in that room with me, the horror and despair of that day had been real enough.
“Yeah,” I said softly, my throat constricting with tears. I looked away to what was visible of the endless desert, breathed slowly, blinking back tears, trying to compose myself. It was harder when there was someone who understood. Would my mother react the same way if she knew what I went through? Did she even care? Did she know what I was? Did she give me up because she was disgusted with what I would become? Did she fear me? So many questions… never an answer.
I concentrated on the
