Rosalina hands me a dusty black duffle bag. “I am so sorry, sweetheart.” I won’t find out that my father executed her until many years later. Both, she and the house staff who were there the day my anima was revealed. That very same day, my father and his retinue drive me to Aunt Charlotte’s house, a smart double story house in a neat serpentine neighbourhood. But they don’t take me into her house. Instead, they drive around the side and far back into the compound where, under tall and scraggly trees, a tiny house sits like a weathered toad in the dark. “This is your home now,” Father says.
