e when I

d quick hands, the kind mother

up to them, my small hand clu

said. My voic

, a small girl in an expensive dress,

"Where are your par

e lie tasting like ash. The truth wa

the late-night calls Mr.

said, his voice cold, like the ste

ding something from me. My blood, my marrow. I was

w a few pages when he left it open once, but the words "shipment" and "specimen

nd empty. She' d lost the locket I held, a tiny, unique thin

ook me. It was be

't kind. N

s changed. Dark ro

Brenda

Nevada desert,

alled me

ean, her hands

y, was a mirror of

ked, I took thei

wanted me to wa

aughter, my only friend

already given t

run from the first set of traffickers,

' d whispered, blood on

rom

remembered the ledger.

to need another piece of me