“I don’t . . .” I sound like I am being strangled. “My family is all dead, or traitors; how can I . . .” I am not making any sense. The sobs take over my body, my mind, everything. He gathers me to him, and bathwater soaks my legs. His hold is tight. I listen to his heartbeat and, after a while, find a way to let the rhythm calm me. “I’ll be your family now,” he says.
