In the Face of Fear
I don’t remember the first moment fear gripped my soul. Perhaps it was as a twelve-year-old girl, contemplating why our father left us. Or maybe it was a year later when a presumptuous boy attempted to hold my hand…
I don’t remember the first moment fear gripped my soul. Perhaps it was as a twelve-year-old girl, contemplating why our father left us. Or maybe it was a year later when a presumptuous boy attempted to hold my hand…