“Can I please have a little more specific advice?” I beg, anxious now as I feel Nico start to slow the car. Christian nods, understanding. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, and if you do, always tell the truth. But don’t tell too much truth – just as much as you need to satisfy the questions.

I step forward, not saying anything else to her, and Giana turns to watch me go. To my surprise, though, before we can make it very far down the hall two kids come streaking out of a door, their clothes unkept and their attitudes worse. “Mooooom!” the little girl screeches, and I turn to watch her

“Well!?” he shouts, making me jump. And, unraveled as I am by the sheer power and terror of this man, I fall back on what Christian told me to say: the truth. “Um,” I say, glancing at Christian again and then giving a hesitant little shrug. “I guess he just…likes me.” Don Romano studies me for

“Then why,” Don Romano says, stepping away from Steven and towards me. “Are you crying?” Am I? I take new note of myself and realize that there are tears on my cheeks. I start to tremble as Romano comes close, lifting his broad and dangerous hand to slowly wipe the tears from my cheeks. I shake

But I hold the questions back, because I can see the tension in Christian’s shoulders, see the stern set of his jaw. I’m not getting anything out of him today – nothing real, at least. Instead, I just reach across the car and put a hand on his knee, putting my own anger and fear aside and wanting