My uncle used to touch me while I was sound asleep. He thought I didn’t notice, but the truth is I welcomed every second…
I stared at the paper until the ink blurred into a jagged black wound. “Robert is not your uncle.” The hospital room felt like it was shrinking. The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator became a countdown. My mother’s hand, thin and trembling like a bird’s wing, gripped my wrist with a strength I didn’t know…