• Prologue


    I suppose you could say my life had been brutal. I’ve been in foster care since I was four years old. But the brutality started before then. It started the moment I was born an unwanted child. In ways it has taught me a lot of things, but mostly it’s taught me to not trust anyone and to keep to myself. I don’t get emotionally attached to anyone anymore, it’s just setting you up for the pain that follows. In the end everyone leaves you, it could be through death, or they had to move, or they decided you weren’t worth their time, or you just grew apart, but it ends the same. After a while you’re alone to start all over and pick up the broken pieces they left behind.

    Maybe it’s just me who thinks like this, I mean if I look around everyone seems to trust at least one person, but this is all I’ve ever known. I guess the way you’re raised plays a big role in this type of stuff. You’re probably thinking I’m just another crazy girl and wondering why you ever even picked up this book. How should I know? I can’t see you. For all I know you’re some ordinary schoolgirl with a morbid curiosity, or you’re reading this because you’re bored out of your mind and this was the first thing you grabbed. Or maybe you’re someone who’s somewhat like me, someone who all you’ve ever known is pain, but the other two seem more likely.

    I’m one of those kids you pass in the hallway and make fun of the clothes they wear or how they do their make up. I’m labelled an emo kid, but I suppose it fits (See? You’re about to put this down aren‘t you?). And no, I’m not into the whole cut-your-arms-up-to-see-who-cares types. Sure, I’ve tried self mutilation in many forms, cutting lasting the longest, but after a month or so, I decided it wasn’t for me. It brought too much attention to me. I wanted to be left alone, not followed around by various counsellors and foster parents.

    Some of us want to forget, others wish they could remember events from their childhood. I don’t want either. If things didn’t happen the way they did, who knows where I would be. Sure, I want to forget certain aspects of my childhood, but if I forgot everything bad that happened, I would remember only a few months of my life.

    My name’s Eliza Finning, and this is my story.