Rage

Prologue

Prologue

Mila

I was eight years old when I was touched by a man for the first time.

I had been separated from my parents when they were deported and forced into a run-down home with dozens of other children. I learned quickly to try and make myself small, unnoticed. But it didn’t matter how bad I looked or smelled. The men would find me and take what they wanted.

They called it a “Refugee Center,” but it was anything but that.

I was eight years old the first time.

I was eight years old the sixth time.

I was eight years old the forty-second time.

And I was fourteen when I ran away because I had finally lost count.