Marked by the Moon
Not now, not ever.
“I heard, but wasn’t certain,” I replied carefully, trying to hide the turmoil swirling inside me.
“Well, he’s back,” my dad said, his tone heavy with meaning. “And may I remind you that next year would be your 21st birthday. Does that ring a bell?”
“Dad, please,” I said, trying to suppress the anger within.
“They are coming for you, Rebecca,” he continued, ignoring my plea.
“George!” my mum interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.
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