Description
Do you ever know who you are before you've hit rock bottom? And if so, what's it like? Can you possibly escape the pit you've stumbled into or are you eternally glued to the icy depths within it? Before my sister passed away, she gifted me a journal. In the cover, it said, "'I hope you live a life that you're proud of. If you find you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.' F. Scott may have said it, but I would be lying if I didn't want that for you. I love you, baby brother. Do whatever your heart deems necessary. I love you tremendously, Harold. Be magnificent. Always and forever, Gem x" I never knew that a new beginning came in the form of two eyes, a heartbeat, and a smile that calmed the storm within me. She saved what little good I have within these tired bones, and I will never be able to thank her for that. __________________________________________________ When I was eight, my mom used to tell people that I was a bad kid. I'd sneak out onto the roof to dance, and I'd always been spanked when I was caught. That never stopped me, of course, but it left some marks. One time, though, I was on the roof and about to do a leap, and I tripped over a part of the roof. I caught myself on the gutter, but my mom was so angry. She spanked me, and doctored my sprained wrist and broken ankle, and then locked my window from the outside. In a way, I was locked away for years. That is, until he showed up with a key.
Prologue
