I know. And I have no excuse. I shouldn’t have touched you when you told me to stop. I’m sorry, Emilia.
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I was still silent. One part of me wanted to believe him, but another still remembered the feeling of his hands on my shoulders and that terrible fear.
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“I want to call my mother,” I said.
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Dad agreed.
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Call her.
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I formed the number with trembling fingers. The mother answered after the second call.
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Emilia? Are you okay?
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Her voice seemed uneasy.
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Mom, I’m in the woods with my dad. He told me I wasn’t your biological daughter. Is that true?
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At the other end of the line, there was silence.
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Then I heard a sigh.
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Emilia, where are you exactly?
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