Chapter 15

Enna was my half-sister. We shared a mother but had different fathers, which was why we had different last names. Her stepfather was my biological father. He treated us equally, which was to say he'd either beat us or curse at us just the same. He was the village's most notorious drunk. When we heard his footsteps coming home, we'd scatter like frightened birds, hiding under the bed or in the closet. In the darkness, all we could see were each other's eyes shining like stars. Sometimes he'd catch us. He'd grab Enna by the ankle and drag her out like a rag doll. His fists and kicks would rain down on her, along with his yells. Our mother was a weak woman. All she could do was cry helplessly from the sidelines, covered in bruises of her own. The first time I picked up a kitchen knife and stood in front of him to protect them, I was seven or eight years old, thin and weak. He knocked me aside with one swipe, and my cheek swelled instantly. He grabbed the knife, drunk and staggering