Like a patchwork quilt, Tenzina could remember her life before in parts, all separate, and all stitched together in the wrong order.
She could remember the high school, where all the kids at Pine Hill were carted off on the daily.
She remembered being relatively popular, considering where she came from; the rest of the children from the home were outcasts, and she remembered working hard for it.
She could remember her fifth birthday, where the staff had baked her a cake, which hadn’t been great, but she had refused to share it anyway,
and had eaten it all in one afternoon and had had a marvellous time doing it.
She could remember the creature – whom she now recognised as a Graske – that had stalked her on her final days of humanity, and accused her of things that she could never have imagined.
She could remember her friends; loud girls with bleached hair and pink nails and a lingering smell of cigarettes, and she could remember how she hated them, but they kept her out of harm’s way,
so she persisted.
She remembered growing up alone – surrounded by other children that came and went, but something about her meant that no one wanted her, always last considered, always first brought back.
She remembered the athletics club that she attended for seven years, and the scholarship she was aiming for that all seemed so trivial now.
She remembered that her name had been Charlotte – Charlie to her friends – and that everything about her had been a lie.
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