“She adored having you in her class.”

“She was a good teacher.” I sat forward. “You should know, I filled every single one of those journals. And a lot more.”

“With what?”

“Thoughts, memories.” I shrugged. “Letters, stories, some shit poetry.”

She laughed. “I’d bet my right arm not a single word on those pages is shit.”

“Doesn’t matter. They weren’t for anyone else anyway.” I dropped my hat back on the table and swiped my sweaty palms down my jeans. “Those pages…they’re the only place I’ve ever been real.”

Like an all-seeing eye, she filled in the blank again. Her super power. “You’ve never told anyone your story.” Not a question—a statement.

“No ma’am.”

“Are you here to tell me?”

I hesitated. “I—I don’t know if I can.”

She sat forward, interlacing her fingers over her knees. “Tag.”

I caught her gaze.

“We go your speed. You’re safe right here.”

I couldn’t curb the desperation in my voice, hating the way it shook. “I need help. I don’t want to be alone.”

“We all need help sometimes. And I promise I’ll do my best to be there for you.”

I closed my eyes, trying to pinpoint a starting spot amid all the muck and mire of my childhood.

Miss Simone was in no hurry to make me talk.

Panic swept up my throat, clawing at my esophagus. I knew whatwas ahead. I knew what I needed to discuss, but damn it all, I was terrified. My body already clenched in anticipation of the coming topics, a chord of tension drawing my shoulders tight.

After a minute, she prodded me, her question chiseling a crack into my apprehension. “If you sat down to write in your journal at this very moment, what would you write?”

I didn’t have to think. “I’d write about the thing that ruined my life.”

“And what is that?”

“The rain.”

PART ONE

I find myself in smudges

Between warm skin and paper

Ink whispers all my secrets

When shame’s hand grips my tongue.

ONE

Iblame the rain.

Maybe that isn’t fair though.