Hope
My jaw slackens as I read about Grace's involvement in girls' trafficking. How many girls has she witnessed being subjected to such horrors? How many did she harm herself?
A wave of nausea hits me, and my throat tightens with disgust as I absorb the words of my broken sister. She once radiated life in a world determined to extinguish it. With each page I flip, I find myself drawn deeper into her story. I can feel her presence in every stroke of the pen, prompting me to trace the lines with trembling fingers, trying to connect with her pain.
Reaching the final page of the journal I found in her wash bag, my heart shatters, leaving me with a multitude of unanswered questions. I'm suddenly plunged back into emptiness.
Tears brim at the corners of my eyes as I frantically flip through the pages, desperate for more of her words, but only blank pages greet me.
Fuck! What did Annika do to deserve this?
