There Wasn't A Lot Of Bullshit In

At Fourteen, My Sister Sailed Away From Me Into A Place I’d Never Been. In The Walls Of My Sex There Was Horror And Blood, In The Walls Of Hers There Were Windows.

Like Snowflakes,' Franny Said,'none Of Them The Same And Yet Each One, From Where We Stand, Exactly Like The One Before

And There She Was, Alone And Walking Out In The Cornfield While Everyone Else I Cared For Sat Together In One Room. She Would Always Feel Me And Think Of Me. I Could See That, But There Was No Longer Anything I Could Do. Ruth Had Been A Girl Haunted And Now She Would Be A Woman Haunted. First By Accident And Now By Choice. All Of It, The Story Of My Life And Death, Was Hers If She Chose Tot Ell It, Even To One Person At A Time.

A Father's Suspicion...' She Began. Is As Powerful As A Mother's Intuition.' ~pg 87, Ruana Singh And Jack Salmon

Each Time I Told My Story, I Lost A Bit, The Smallest Drop Of Pain. It Was That Day That I Knew I Wanted To Tell The Story Of My Family. Because Horror On Earth Is Real And It Is Every Day. It Is Like A Flower Or Like The Sun; It Cannot Be Contained.