A game of dangerous loyalties
The gunshot, the screams, my siblings’ cries for help–all of it crashed over me at once, freezing me in sheer terror.
I closed my eyes, raised my hands, and muttered the words I’d once whispered countless times as a child. “Please, please...”
I could still hear his footsteps, see his hands trembling as he held the gun by his side, his voice pleading, urging me to come out. I saw my sister—she was only twelve–-step out just as he neared my hiding spot. I watched her, heard the soothing lies he used to draw her close, the comforting tone that made her trust him enough to let him embrace her. Then, in a sickening shift, his hands rose slowly, his voice turned quiet, and his last words echoed in
Bab Populer