The stewards filed into the dining room in a single file, all impeccably dressed in smart-fitting uniforms, and began to pour wine as the conversation flowed. I was distracted, observing the lecherous eyes of my Father and brother Andrew consume her. She stayed put between them, eyes down on her plate, her face tense as she shrunk even more in fright, looking smaller and smaller as the moments ticked past. I'd come to know of those little things she did when she was nervous — the intricate way she wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes wide and fully concentrated on the most trivial thing. She may not be aware of herself. She may not be aware of those little details, but I noticed them. I knew she wanted to hide away. Knew she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. At least to save her from this intense scrutiny.