Prologue

Age 10 years

“Swallow it!” my mother yelled as she forced a bitter black tonic down my throat.

She saw something in my eyes that night and said she had to “kill the feral beast.” So she rushed to the cupboard and fished out a black glass bottle. Pinching and forcing open my jaw, she poured the vile liquid down my throat.

I spluttered and spattered, but some of the drink entered my gut. Immediately, it felt like death had crept in. “Mommy,” I gasped and clutched my throat as I collapsed, my knees hitting the floor first. Excruciating pain blasted in my throat. “Mommy, save me…” I whimpered.

She kicked me. “I am saving you!”

I stumbled and rolled across the floor. Lights dimmed in my vision as I lost consciousness. When I woke up, something inside me felt shattered.

Age 12 years

I sweated profusely. My insides burned like a raging inferno. School was impossible, so I ran home and banged open the door only to see my mother kissing a man she was sharing a joint with.

“Mommy!” I said in a raspy voice. “I—I can’t—”

“Fuck!” she hissed. She got up, swayed a bit, and came to me. She grabbed my hair in her fist, dragged me to my room, shoved me to the bed, and stormed out, slamming my door.

When she returned, she was holding that black bottle.

“No, Mother!” I said, breathless and eyes hooded. “This hurt.” I still remembered the taste and aftermath of the tonic she’d given me last time. I crawled away from her with every bit of energy I had.

She straddled me, pinned my wrists beneath her knees, wrenched my jaw open, and poured the tonic in my mouth. She slapped her hand over my mouth. “Drink it, now!”

As soon as I swallowed it, stars burst into my vision and I fainted. I regained consciousness much later. I felt like my mother had carefully taken my existence apart, piece by piece, and left me hollow.

Age 15 years

I caught hold of the kitchen island as my soul clawed at my insides. I slapped my hand over my chest and rubbed hard, hoping the sensation would stop. It was like something wanted to burst out of me, shredding me into pieces.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked with furrowed brows. Stinking like sweat and grime as usual, she came in to pour herself some water.

“N—nothing,” I replied, scared she would make me drink that horrible medicine. I started to leave, but somehow, she was right behind me. “Mom, it’s nothing,” I said in a strained voice. “I—”

She grabbed my wrist and dragged me to her bedroom. I struggled to get out of her grasp, but she was strong. Stronger than me. “You filthy cunt!” she hissed. “Wait till I kill that fucking soul!”

I looked at her in confusion. Why was she talking like this? “Mom, please—ah!” I doubled over as my body felt like it was about to explode. She grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and poured the black liquid into my mouth. “No!” I struggled, but she overpowered me. The moment it hit my belly, darkness consumed me.

Age 17 years

“Kimble!” Josh, my high school boyfriend, shook my shoulder. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

I shook my head as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. Not again. At least not in front of Josh.

Josh and I came from the same neighborhood and bonded as soon as we met. We both had the same kind of issues about being touched and, while we may never have kissed, we were definitely in a relationship. His square face was framed with unruly curls. With a wiry frame, he was just as malnourished as I was. His parents fought bitterly but stayed together, which only made it worse.

The neighborhood taught us to be extra vigilant. Josh gave me a box cutter knife to carry in my back pocket, telling me that they went undetected while a switch-blade was like a beacon to danger.

“Come on,” he said as he pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of here!”

Josh took me home and knocked on the door furiously.

“Please don’t tell my mom about it,” I pleaded. “I’ll manage it myself, okay?”

His brows scrunched up. “Okay, I won’t,” he said, doubts flickering in his eyes.

Mom opened the door and narrowed her eyes. “What happened to her?”

“She did five laps on the track,” Josh made up the silliest excuse.

“Thanks, Josh,” my mother said and pulled me inside, slamming the door in his face.

“Mrs. Fogel!” he shouted and knocked on the door. But she ignored him and I got another dose of that black tonic.

This time when I woke up, I felt… broken. Like a soulless husk.