We lived in a semi-busy part of Manhattan, if you can call it that. Hardly anyone went in or out of their houses. My dad usually didn't let me or my older sister out, afraid others might hurt us. He said he was "protecting" us, but never told us from what . . .
No I am, the down is gooder!
Dad says I'm the best so he gave me the top bed!
Can we not go to school today? School is so annoying . . . and so is our teacher . . .
Dad wants us to, so we do, Amber.
As I grew up, it was my sister who took care of me. My dad was either to busy, or too annoyed to think of us. People even said my sister was my mother. we looked so alike.
It was there, going to school, going into seventh, that I first met what my father had been hiding from us for so long and couldn't conceal it anymore . . . but at that time, I didn't know.
I often saw them in the hallway. Stunning. Popular. Perfect. Unreal. Why did I choose to stare at them, almost as it they were gods? It was on the night they called P Night that I saw what they could do.