I’ve always known I was possessive. It’s built into my f*****g DNA.
Back in middle school, our teacher brought an ugly baby toad into the classroom. I was the one who befriended it. I named her Maureen. I took care of her. Then Grey Bruce–one of those overpampered rich kids–decided he wanted her too. It became a petty competition over who Maureen liked more, but the toad always hopped away from Grey and came back to me. I was smug about it.
Then I missed a single day of school because Mom needed me.
I came back the next morning to find Grey holding Maureen in his lap. And the toad was sitting there, completely comfortable in his hands.
That was the first time I ever laid my hands on another human being. It was the first time I felt the electric rush of violence crackling under my skin
