It hadn’t been easy dragging his body out of the hut and pushing him into the pond. But the nightmares hadn’t gone away. They were like red-hot flashes of pain. Father forcing himself on me after Ma died, the sourness of his alcohol-laden breath, spidery fingers around my throat.
The water gleamed in the silvery moonlight, my secret safe within its depths. I collapsed on the soft earth and started whispering.