Every single detail, every single Goddamn thing about my mom was engraved, burned and inscribed in my brain as if I had been branded.
Her lovely green eyes, and the blond highlights that ran through her locks of chocolate-brown hair. Her dazzling smile and the way she always wore sun dresses. The way her hands always seemed so soft when I was sick or feeling bad.
I felt another pang in my chest when I thought about my father. Him, I didn’t even want to speak about. He was a traitor, a disgrace to our family.
As soon as I had recovered, just like mother, he had vanished.
The problem was, he was still alive.
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