Frozen at His Grave
Language: en
On Christmas when I was 6 years old, my brother and I were molested while delivering gingerbread to the neighbors in our village. My brother died protecting me that day. His life stopped forever. After that, Mom would tell everyone I was a "slut" who seduced men all the time. She even dressed me up prettily and sent me to stay with the old bachelors in the community, taking turns for a few days each. Mom said it was to train me, to prevent accidents from happening again. Until this Christmas, on the anniversary of my brother's death, I wore my thorn-covered clothes to pay my respects to…