I felt sick. I didn’t feel old enough or wise enough or strong enough to handle this situation correctly. I wanted to turn to my brother and have him hug me and tell me everything would be alright. I wanted Mama here to bundle me up in her arms, enveloping me in her long, flowy robes, and whisper that she would look after everything. But of course she couldn’t. She had been taken from us. And now Jugs was going to be taken from me too.
