• She died when I was just two, and I saw her die. She told me to stay home, to stay in the house while she went to answer the loud knock at the living room door. She had told me to stay down, fall asleep, and not make a sound...
    That's why my father always called me 'the bad child,' that's why I ran away, as soon I could- the first chance that I had got.
    I shot out of the back door and ran for the woods, jumping over neibors' fences, tiny trees, and littered dirt ground. My heart was pumping, jumping out of my chest, wanting and waiting for the spiritual road that had almost-out-of-nowhere appeared in front of me. It was almost so grand, I wouldn't make a difference to me if it was handed to me on a golden platter, or in a dirty dog bowl on the floor.
    Inspiration shot through my veins, I would find the men who had murdered my Mother, I would find my own life, but most of all, I would show my enemies, that they were all wrong-dead wrong.