“Once, when I was 27, my uncle asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ From that moment on, I began to be afraid of him. A few days later, when he took me to a hotel on the outskirts of the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

“What’s going on?”

He simply repeated:

“Seven o’clock.  Room 214.”

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Then he left.

From that moment on, I couldn’t relax.

The worst thoughts began to invade my mind.

Why had he brought me here?

Why a hotel?

Why couldn’t he just tell me what he wanted?

Twice, I was about to grab my bag and leave.

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But then I thought of my father.

Richard had never hurt me.

Perhaps there really was something important he needed to tell me.

At 6:55 that afternoon, I was already standing in front of room 214.

I raised my hand to knock, but then I realized that the door wasn’t completely closed.

“Uncle Richard?”

There was no answer.

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I pushed the door open slightly.

The moment I entered, I stopped.

My heart

began to pound.

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The  bed was completely covered in  photographs.