Luca’s pov

don't reveal all the details. Not due to a lack of trust, but rather because I'm unsure how to articulate it. The recollections—if they can be called memories—don't arrive like typical ones. They don’t fit together like parts of a jigsaw. They arrive in bursts, in sensations. A whisper in the recesses of my thoughts, a picture I fail to identify yet instinctively recognize. At times, when I shut my eyes, I envision that spot in the forest once more. The darkness among the ...