I also did weird things. Scary, frightening things that worried my mother to no end. I once skinned one of the cats that roamed our yards. It was still alive. Mother freaked when she saw it mingling with the other kitties.

All of this was done by age five. My insanity driving mother insane. Finally, she put me away, saying she’d come back for me when I was better. She never came back.

But Sal did. Sal came back for me way later…but too late….

Salvatore’s my brother. Well, actually, he’s my half brother. But he’s the only one I got so he’s my brother. He’s something like eight years older than I am. He’s a looker. Very handsome. His daddy must have been a lady’s man. Not that Momma wasn’t pretty. Oh, she was just absolutely beautiful. I think I got her pretty face and dark hair. I must have my Daddy’s eyes because Sal has these slate blue eyes that just seem to draw people in. I got these black eyes. Obsidian stones, Momma used to call ‘em.

Anyway…where was I? Oh, yeah. The asylum.

I was put in this place when I was five. A kid! Can ya believe it? Well, I was throwing this massive fit. Clinging onto her so bad that I was making her bleed. Her arms and face and stuff. Sal was just watching. He had this serious look on his face. Scary actually.

They finally pried me off. Momma promised to come back. Sal just waved to me with a smile.

They put me in this room full of kids. Some of ‘em were just sitting there staring off into space. Others were just rockin’ back an’ forth. And then, there were like those ones who just walked around, lookin’ at stuff. What was I doin’ here? I wasn’t like any of these kids.

They just put me in that room. There were some beds, but not a lot. It was spooky. I couldn’t figure out what I was doin’ there. Then, this man comes and watches me. Asks me all these questions. Like, “Do you know why you are here?” or “What bad things have you done?”

Bad things? What bad things? I’m a good girl. I don’t do bad things. And I didn’t know why I was there. Sheesh.

The years passed. I was kept there. Momma never showed up. I grew up. More kids came. They moved me to another room with bigger kids.

There was this guy. He was cute He didn’t look like he was from around Italy. He had this golden blonde hair, and these shiny blue eyes. Oh, his eyes were more beautiful than Sal’s. They were like sapphire in water. Have you ever seen sapphires in water? It’s utterly gorgeous!

He always slept during the day, and if it was light outside, he was always in the dark places. I must have been seventeen when I saw him. Met him…whatever you want to call it.

His name was Christopher. I had never met a Christopher before. He had introduced himself to me in the nicest way. I couldn’t quite figure out why he was in the nutty place either. He was so polite and cute! Seventeen. Is there a song called Sixteen Candles or something? Isn’t that when you’re supposed to fall in love? At sixteen? I was a year late. Is that normal?

We stuck together in that screwed up nuthouse. We talked and laughed. I had stopped doing weird things, and waited for Momma to show up. She never came.

I did ask him why he was in there. He told me it was because he had this sick fascination with blood. He said the doctors also said he was seeing things. He tended to talk to himself.

“I’m not talking to myself,” he said while we were eating. He had this glassy look in his eyes. “I hear things that they don’t hear, Nadia. Others talk to me. All of them…they don’t see or hear things. I try to help them, but they won’t listen.”

Yeah, when he said that, he sounded nutty.

What could I say? I just nodded. Besides, I worshipped the ground this guy walked on.

He told me it was okay to talk to myself. That was how people got enlightened. That was a big word, but I just nodded and accepted every word he said.

Kris stuck by my side. Nicest guy you’ll ever know…well, except maybe Sal, but he’s my brother, so that’s to be expected. Anyway, the docs left us alone sometime after Kris showed up. Was like they were scared of him or something. Cool, huh?

Kris acted funny sometimes. Funny isn’t quite the word either. Strange. Weird. Insane. He would sometimes just talk babble. Then, one day it seemed to make sense…what he was sayin’.

It was my birthday. I don’t know how I knew that since after my first year in the asylum, I had lost all track of time. I didn’t know what day it was or what year, but I knew it was my birthday.