Ten Thousand Truths by Kelli Jean

Author:Kelli Jean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Kelli Jean
Published: 2016-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Deo

Nineteen Years Ago

Since waking that morning, Mama and I had been quiet, speaking to each other in hushed tones. A strangeness had descended on us, like a greasy film.

Neither of us wanted to go. The decision to come hadn’t been made lightly, and it was at the insistence of my heartbroken oma—my grandmother—that we made the journey at all. Disembarking the plane was one of the hardest things I’d had to do. I had no idea what would be waiting for me when I did.

We hadn’t been back to Germany since the day we left. Our nonstop flight from Heathrow Airport to Frankfurt Airport had taken about an hour and a half.

My grandparents didn’t know what had happened to me. I’d convinced my mother not to go to the cops, to just get me out of Germany. Being a foreigner herself, she’d agreed at the time that it might be for the best, as she didn’t know how we’d be treated by the authorities. My mother had given my grandparents the excuse that being there was far too painful for us. Without my father, she’d felt out of place, and with Marius’s suicide, I had needed the change.

My father’s family had gone slightly apeshit over the fact that she’d upped and taken his only child away from them. For taking the blame for my peace of mind, Mama had my undying love and loyalty.

I hadn’t seen Oma in five years. In the beginning, my mother had sent letters and pictures, but the increasing hostility and nastiness from my grandparents had made her cease all communication with them.

Until now.

No longer a tubby eleven-year-old, I was seventeen, nearly a man. Six foot four and still growing, I was enormous compared to my German relatives.

Most definitely compared to Rudolph Meintz, my molester, and Marius’s rapist.

As far as we knew, the man was still involved with my father’s family. The thought of seeing him again left a lump of iron-hard revulsion in my stomach.

My mother, all five foot six inches of her, marched ahead of me, like my own human shield. She hovered close as we made it through customs and collected our luggage. We hadn’t brought much. We weren’t planning on staying for more than four days. We’d be leaving the day after the funeral.

Oma and Tante—my aunt—Eva stood outside of arrivals, awaiting us. Despite the foul air of misery surrounding my grandmother, she stood like a militant, her back straight and shoulders squared with a ferocious look upon her face. Tante Eva, Marius’s mum, was much sweeter-looking with a genuine smile on her face.

When they spotted us, their eyes grew huge, and I knew they hadn’t expected me to be the size of a behemoth.

“Amadeo?” my tante gasped as Mama and I walked up to them.

“Guten tag, Tante Eva,” I replied, wishing her a good day.

My German was a little rusty and tasted bitter in my mouth. Back home in England, I no longer sounded German. I sounded English.

My plump little aunt threw her arms around my waist and sobbed until Oma barked at her to let me go.

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