The first time Abel hit me I felt
something I had never felt before. I
felt terror.
I was in grade six, my last year
at Maryvale. We’d moved to
Highlands North, and I’d gotten in
trouble at school for forging my
mom’s signature on some
document; there was some activity I
didn’t want to participate in, so I’d
signed the release in her name to
get out of it. The school called my
mom, and she asked me about it
when I got home that afternoon. I
was certain she was going to punish
me, but this turned out to be one of
those times when she didn’t care.