Elena’s Point Of  View

The next morning, the lock clanged open and the sound jolted me out of a half-dream where my father’s voice was still telling me to hold on. My body protested as they dragged me out, my knees buckling, feet scraping against the dirt. My mother stood waiting in the yard, arms folded, eyes sharp as glass.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson?” she asked, her voice smooth but edged like a blade.

I nodded once, too weak to even shape words. My throat was a cracked ...