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“It's not about what you think, it's about what you feel. What do you feel?”

Sucking in a breath, she let it out slowly. “I feel confused. I still feel hurt and betrayed. But I also know what this family has given me.” Rolling onto her side, she snuggled into my chest. “What do I do with that, Birch? How do I love and hate the only family I have ever known?”

“Will you tell me what you remember?”

“I can't.” Her face sunk into my arm as her eyes slammed shut. “I wish I didn't have this shit in my head. I wish I never remembered.”

“Was it the diary? Do you think that gave you your memories back?”

Shrugging her shoulder, her finger spun against my skin. “Maybe.” Tilting her head to look in my eyes, she asked, “How did the police never find it before? If it's been here, how did they miss it?”

I had to think about it before I answered her. That was a good question, one that didn't cross my mind until she asked it.

“My mother. . .” Pausing, I curled my arm under her neck and rolled onto my back to look at the ceiling. “My mom used to remove it from the house before a raid. We have a guy on the inside who would let us know when they were coming, and my mom would always make sure it was gone before they got here. That's why you were always sent off too.”

That's how they got it. . . That's how this shit happened.

That was the first raid we had since my mother passed away. The only reason they found it was because no one had warned us and no one was here to hide it. I felt sick to my stomach that something we had been through so many times before had been our downfall.

I still wasn't sure why my father never destroyed it. But then again, maybe it wasn't up to him. Maybe it was my mother who refused to let him, maybe she wanted a piece of Cyprus's past to still live on.

“Your dad went through a lot of trouble to hide me. And I'm still not sure I know why. He could have left me there, I didn't really know who he was.”

She's right. He could have left her there. . .

He said he was trying to fix it, and I believe him.

“Tell me what you remember, Cyprus. I need to know. All I know is what he told me, and that wasn't much. I want to hear what you saw, what you felt.”

My memory was one thing, but she had been there.

I trusted my father and what he said. But I only knew his side.

It was time for me to hear her truth, to learn about what it looked like through her eyes.