Even your body belongs to them.
Your mother tugs down your shirt, pulls up your socks. She pushes the hair away from your face.
Your Great Aunt beckons. A warning glance from your mother propels you across the room.
Your Great Aunt holds your cheek between two bony fingers. “She’s gorgeous, Eve.” Your mother smiles and does not rescue you. Your Aunt pats the sofa beside her, and you sit. She pulls your skirt over your knees, and licks a smudge off your black patent leather shoes.
You belong to them.
