Stolen Truth

Henya Drescher
Nov 8 · 8 min read

An excerpt from my book — First Chapter

Noah’s cries cut into my chest. My eyes well up, and my throat thickens. I run a hand along the back of my six-day-old baby’s silky, perfectly shaped head, fighting back a rush of sadness. His cries turn to whimpers and then silence.

I jolt awake.

My body breaks out in a cold sweat before I can identify the source of my unease. The first thing that reaches me is the sharp stench of fresh paint, as I struggle through a haze of consciousness, and with it, the feeling that something’s off. I strain my ears in the…

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Henya Drescher

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I write what I see. I document what I hear. I talk when listened to. I listen when talking is needed to be heard.

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