Have you ever felt different? Like the odd one out? As a child, I was the 'weird' one. My behaviour was different, my sense of humour was strange. I was the short one, the ginger-haired one. The Christian one. I had a few good friends; but while they learning about hair and make-up, my head was preoccupied with entirely different concerns. I devoted my spare time to tying up the loose ends in my head (of which there were many). There were the things I'd been told. My mum's open and honest conversations with me about all that had been said and done. There were my father's denials and justifications - placing blame on anyone but himself, refusing to take responsibility for the damage he'd caused. Then there were my own memories. Memories of tiny, vulnerable girl; no longer naive. The pictures were blurry, but the feelings were clear and they froze me with horror whenever my personal boundaries were crossed. If someone hugged me. If a boy wanted to kiss me. I needed explanations. I needed to know why. And so I looked for answers.
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