Riona looks tense and expectant. Her face is paler than usual, I think out of sympathy. I know she likes my mother and doesn’t enjoy thinking about her beaten, battered, and heavily pregnant. It’s strange to think that I was technically present for all of these events. Just a nearly-grown fetus, carried along for the ride. I don’t remember any of it, obviously. I’m only going off what my mother told me after I found her wedding certificate in the attic. She was willing to tell me everything, once I knew the truth. She described it all in perfect detail, and Waya added anything she didn’t know
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