The Words That Killed Me
Language: en
I don't understand the words people say in anger. When I was seven, my foster mother complained that I ate too much and told me that if I didn't work, I wouldn't get to eat. I washed dishes for three days with a high fever. Only after I collapsed did I dare take half a moldy dinner roll. When I was twelve, my teacher told me I couldn't go home until I'd memorized the entire passage. The next morning, when the security guard forced open the classroom door, I was still standing in front of the empty desks, reciting the final paragraph. When I was sixteen, a doctor got angry when I refused…