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But in that exact same moment, the world seems to shatter all around me.
My father’s words echo in my mind, louder and louder, until they drown out everything else.
They took my mother.
It becomes hard to breathe.
They took my mother.
Surely it’s not true.
But as I force myself to look at Isaak, to see the heavy emotion in his eyes, and the tension that’s clear in his expression, I know it is.
They. Took. My. Mother.
The Russians…they’re responsible for my mother’s death.
The weight of it crashes down on me, and I feel a cold rush of horror spreading through my veins. My hands begin trembling, and I’m barely able to catch my breath as the truth sinks in, like a sharp blade that twists through my heart.
I hear myself whimper, the soft sound filled with raw, anguished emotion.
“Mama…”
I breathe out, my voice barely audible, like a prayer that’s been whispered into the air.
Dario’s arm immediately curls around me, pulling me into his side, hiding my face into his chest. My brother holds me tight, his embrace so strong and protective, but I can feel him shaking too, his own body stiff with anger and frustration.
He pulls us both backward, moving away from the devastation that has unfolded in front of us, and I let him.
Right now, I need the security of his hold, and the warmth of his presence.
I press myself into my brother’s chest, my hands trembling as I wrap them around him. Tears roll down my face, hot and fast, as the full weight of what Papa has said—the truth—continues settling over me.
I want to scream.
I want to fight.
I want to demand for answers.
But the pain of this all—of my mother, and of this situation—leaves me paralysed.
The world around me blurs into the background once more.
All I can think of now is Mama; the woman who had always been my everything.
That very same woman had been taken from me, by the very same Russians that took me too.
My body trembles in my brother’s arms.
Dario whispers something low into my ears. His words are comforting, but I can’t really focus on what he’s saying—there’s a faint buzzing sound in my ears, a dull hum that grows louder as the chaos around me continues. My mind is stuck, spinning, unable to process the words that Papa has just spoken.
They took my mother from me.
The Russians.
I can’t even wrap my head around it.
My hands shake, and I feel dizzy. My breathing becomes shallow as I fight to stay on my feet.