The silence after Father was dragged away settled like a thick fog, swallowing the last thread of hope I'd been clinging to. Sasha's sobs echoed in the dark, jagged and broken, like something inside her had finally snapped. I didn't speak at first—I didn't trust my voice not to shake—but watching her tremble in the corner, knees pulled close, shoulders shaking violently, something inside me cracked too.
I had never seen Sasha like this.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
Not proud.
Just… small.
The bugs still buzzed restlessly around us; the cold gnawed at my bones; the faint metallic scent of fear hung in the air thicker than oxygen. But even with all of that, nothing was louder than her soft, whimpering cries.
"Sasha…" I whispered.
She didn't look up. Her face was buried in her palms, wrists bound, hair sticking to her damp cheeks. She shook her head, as if attempting to curl into herself, disappear, erase the moment, erase everything.
