IT’S YOUR FAULT

And there she stood—Márcia Hunt, my mother, the root of it all.

Amara shot me a provocative glance, waiting for my response. Every movement she made dripped with irony. I opened my mouth to explain. Maybe it was time to put an end to it all, to finally choose myself for once and let the world burn, no matter who was in it.

“We’re discussing something very personal here, Mrs. Hunt,” Amara said, wrapping her arms around me.

Even after I had asked her not to touch me, ...