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It was only a light caress. I didn’t really like her touch, but this was my mom, and I knew she needed this closeness now.
    She pressed a little closer, and I let her. She was the only person whose presence I could stand for longer than a few minutes. Not only was she my mother, she was also my best friend and one of the most beautiful women I knew. She really didn’t show her fifty years. Maybe it was because of her long blond hair and big green eyes or her high cheekbones and full lips. She was so pretty.
    I could understand why my father had fallen in love with her so many years ago. She simply made you smile. Her cheerfulness was contagious. She was my sun, the center of our small family.
    “I will miss you, my big girl.” She drew me even closer.
    Slowly, I rubbed her back and then whispered, “I’ll miss you, too. I really will . . .” I felt the shoulder of my shirt growing damp. Mom was crying.
    Seeing her hurt was painful. Knowing I was the reason pained me even more. In moments like this, I considered abandoning my plan in order to make her feel better. But that was not an option.
    “Mom, everything will be OK. I will be in touch.” A sigh escaped my throat. “Maybe I’ll be back soon,” I added so quietly it was almost inaudible. I loosened my grip to look her in the eyes. When I kissed her cheek, I tasted the salt from her tears. “Also, I remember someone saying she was looking forward to having less women fighting over the bathroom.”
    She smiled as a few last tears trailed down her face. “I will miss you anyway,” she said softly and stroked my cheek with the back of her hand. “Please take good care of yourself, will you, Mia? Promise you will come home if anything happens. Please.”
    So as not to cry, I nodded and bit my lower lip so hard that I tasted blood. The pain distracted me. For the sake of my family, I had to be strong. And I had to be strong for my own sake, as well.
    “My beautiful girl.” She smiled at me.
    She always insisted that, with my green eyes and blond hair, I’d inherited her looks. But I’d never thought I matched her beauty, and right now, I clearly didn’t.
    My eyes were still green, but they looked dead, bruised from all the sleepless nights. My cheeks were hollow.
    Not to mention my hair . . .

Chapter 5 ½
    Mia—So Who am I?
    Graz, June 2011
    For the first time in a long time I’d gotten a good night’s sleep. A night without tossing and turning. I wasn’t awake at dawn to listen to the twittering birds. I’d slept straight through their morning chorus.
    I yawned and stretched my aching limbs, then massaged my face and rubbed my eyes. As I sat up slowly, I ran my fingers through my long blond hair.
    I froze. I must be dreaming. Please don’t let this be true. My heart began to race, and my hands shook. I closed my eyes and lowered my hands to my lap.
    Chewing my lower lip, I inhaled deeply and evenly through my nose. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes.
    “No!” I let out a loud scream. Tears shot to my eyes.
    Someone shouted my name. My sister rushed into my room and stopped, a panicked look on her face. I stared back at her with a blank expression.
    “Mia, what’s the matter?”
    I continued to stare at her, my eyes wide. I could hardly breathe.
    “Mia?” she asked gently.
    I only shook my head.
    Anna came closer.
    “Anna? Am I dreaming? Please tell me I’m dreaming,” I moaned.
    Anna kneeled beside my bed and took the clump of hair I was holding. “No, Mia. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a dream.” I could hear the effort she made to keep her voice calm.
    From that day on, I discovered hair on my pillow each morning. I suffered panic attacks. I screamed when I woke up. Whoever came into the room—whether my mother, my father, or my sister—had to calm me down and remind me to breathe.
    I didn’t want to comb my hair anymore or run my fingers through what once had been a great, thick mane. I was afraid I’d find more strands in the brush