great-recipes.grastyup.com “My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

Why had he brought me here?

Why a hotel?

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

Twice, I almost grabbed my bag and left.

But then I thought about my father.

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Richard had never hurt me.

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

At 6:55 that evening, I was already standing in front of Room 214.

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

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“Uncle Richard?”

No answer.

I slowly pushed the door open.

“Uncle Richard?”

The room was dimly lit. A small lamp stood beside the bed, and the curtains were drawn. Richard was standing near the window, holding an old brown envelope.

When he saw me, he quickly turned around.

“Emily. You came.”

“What is this about?” I asked, keeping my hand on the door. “You’ve been acting strangely for weeks. And that question you asked me… why did you want to know whether I was a virgin?”