Miranda
Nobody spoke during the last stretch of the ride.
Not really.
There had been whispers at first, quiet bursts of fear passed between families as the buses rolled away from the only home most of us had ever known.
People asked questions no one could answer. Where were they taking us? What would happen to the men? Would we be separated? Would the children stay with us? Would we be allowed to keep anything beyond the single suitcase each person had been permitted to pack?
Eventually even the questions died.
Fear could only circle the same room so many times before everyone grew too exhausted to keep chasing it.
I sat near the middle of the bus with Becca asleep against my shoulder, one small fist tangled in the fabric of my shirt. She had cried herself out half an hour ago, ove
