Godchild
“She can still see her boy, Charlie. The memory of his little round face is ingrained in her brain. But at the same time, she is remembering the pit.The mass grave.All those bloating bodies covered in white powder, stacked up like piled logs, their stench sweet, overwhelming, floating up into her nose like vapor.She doesn’t want to go back to the pit. She can’t go back to the pit. She’s not ready to die.She cares now. Suddenly. About life. Her life.The book. She has to write Charlie’s book first. She has to have the chance to tell the truth.She hears some men talking. Arguing.She has no idea who they are.
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