“It was a lie, June,” Kolya tells me. “My mother never left us. She was taken.”
I wonder if June even realizes that her hand is on my shoulder.
Her hazel eyes are filled with an awe that’s decaying quickly into dread. To be honest, I have no f*****g clue why I’m telling her any of this. It happened so long ago that the memories have fused with my skin and taken up permanent residence there.
I don’t need to relive it.
I certainly don’t need to repeat it.
And yet here I am, sharing this part of my past with a woman who doesn’t even know what she’s taking from me.
“What do you mean, ‘s-she was taken’?” June asks, her voice dropping low as if she’s afraid we’ll be overheard.
“My father decided he’d had enough of her. He took her and sold her.”
“H-he sold her?” June gasps. “His own wife
