![]() "You are glowing like a Christmas lantern, even ![]() "Look at you," he says, taking my face into one of his spacious bowl-shaped hands, where the palms have lost their lifelines to the machetes that cut the cane. They are steel, hardened by four years of sugarcane harvests. He is lavishly handsome by the dim light of my castor oil lamp, even though the cane stalks have ripped apart most of the skin on his shiny black face, leaving him with crisscrossed trails of furrowed scars. I grab his body, my head barely reaching the center of He levels my balance with the tips of his long but curled fingers, each of them alive on its own as they crawl towards me. I lurch at him and stumble, trying to rise. He says, "I will take you back into the cave across the river." "Back where?" I ask without feeling my lips moving. While my body is struggling against sleep, fighting itself to awaken, he whispers for me to "lie still while I He comes most nights to put an end to my nightmare, the one I have all the time, of my parents drowning. ![]()
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