I’m now on Chapter 3 “Twisted Love” of The Girl I Used To Be by April Henry. After reading far too much of the other book (cough cough), I sort of just fell into this one at the speed of a penny flying toward earth, and hopefully not killing anyone in the way!
All my life, I’ve known what I am. The daughter of a victim and a killer. When I looked in the mirror, sometimes I thought I could see them both—the cowering and the rage.
Part of my dad was in me, and that meant I could grow up to be like him. Every time I lost my temper, I felt it pulse deep inside. The knowledge that I could do something as crazy as he did, stab someone I was supposed to love and leave them with only the cold stars as witnesses.
But now what am I? What was my father?
And there’s something else.
If my dad didn’t kill my mom, if his body has always been in the forest—then who drove me to the Walmart three hours away?
I imagine the three-year-old me. I’ve thought about that girl so much, what she might have seen…. I don’t remember ever being that girl. Not what happened that day or before. Is not remembering a gift or a curse?
And now everything has been turned on it’s head.
When everyone thought my dad had killed my mom, it made sense that he hadn’t killed me. I was his daughter, his own blood.
“But why not?” I manage to ask. “If the killer had already murdered my parents, why didn’t he kill me?”
Much better than that other book. Much.
Ok, so here’s my thoughts so far. Woah! Imagine being stuck at Walmart until authorities arrived at the tender age of 3 years old. Something I probably would never have forgotten because Walmart is a CRAZY place in these parts, but nonetheless… Stuck at a Walmart and then you are told the rest of your life that your mother was killed by your father and he then skipped town. We are changing your name and your life and you are emansipated at lets say 16 or 17. You are seventeen now and your case managers (aka cops) show up and over turn your whole life. Again.fourteen years later.
[To be continued…]