I’ll punish him for everything that he’s done to us. To my mother. To my sister. To our family. This time, I’ll make sure that he can never hurt them again.

I know now that I was wrong to blame my mother for what happened to our family. And I don’t resent her for her grief. It comes from a place of weakness, of powerlessness. Umma allowed the men in her life to control her, to tell her what to do, to make all the big decisions for her. Without them, she’s lost, adrift at sea. My mother may be too weak

The only person who is conspicuously absent is my father. I keep expecting him to come through the door, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

There’s an energy thrumming in my veins. An anger. Fury. The desire to punish, to exact justice.

I know what my mother is feeling right now, at least a little bit. To be the person who is always alone, always rejected. I have never been anybody’s first choice. Not my mother’s, who loves Ji-hyun more than me; not my father’s, who chose another woman over me. Over all of us.

Umma used to tell me that she knows Ji-hyun and me better than anyone else. “I made both of you in my stomach and grew you for nine months,” she’d say. “I created every part of your bodies. No matter who you meet, no matter what you do, I will always know you and your sister best.” As a child, I thought this meant that my mother could read my mind.

George floats from place to place, preying on Asian women. He slithers into their hearts and their beds. He takes over their homes. He eats their food. He takes and takes and takes.

And once again, she is powerless.

Hope is a terrible thing. Hope is my mother waiting by the front door for months. Hope is a table full of banchan, side dishes, carefully prepared by hand. Hope is my sister curled in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder, asking, “Do you think he will come back?” But hope is also George, crawling on the floor, collecting pieces of glass so