Chapter 6

Dior

From the first moment I laid my eyes upon Patricia, I understood she was different. I spotted her on my first day in kindergarten. My skin under my clothes was blue and yellow from the abuse I had to endure the night before. I was in tremendous pain, and she smiled at me like a princess from one of those Disney tales.

And while a typical kid would have gladly made friends with the cute girl, I stood frozen. It was as if my feet had grown their gnarled roots and stuck them in the ground. I had never faced kindness, and my initial instinct was to run, but then I clenched my fists and fought to steal the spade and bucket from her.

I lost, not that I'm bitter about it. The event marked us as enemies, and although I will never admit it out loud, Patricia has saved my life plenty of times. My parents weren't kind when I grew up—they are still assholes, but I'm strong enough to fight back these days.

When I was younger, I didn't possess enou