I knew from Brenda’s suggestion of the shower that she was ashorny as I was.Taking a shower together was not unusual; we loved beingnaked and to...ching each other. When we were younger, it wasinnocent, sisterly stuff: inquisitive fingers exploring undera nightie or a bathing suit. But as teenagers, there weretimes when it went a lot further. Like the first time Brendamade out with a boy. She raced home to tell me. I wanted toknow how it felt so she showed me. From then on, we. "I was eight years old." She replied, her voice a ghostly whisper.She cleared her throat."I do not really remember anything after lying down next to my Papa on the bed and singing to him, except for wishing that I could die. I wanted so to be with him. I felt so lost, so alone and so very cold. When next my mind became clear, I was standing at Madame's side holding her hand. She nodded her head to me and I remember throwing the crocus I picked for him into the darkness. The bruised and withered. More

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