Chapter 10

The hours pass torturously slow as I settle into a new routine. I spend my days with a tutor, being homeschooled to catch up for the lost time. I stare at the pages, and all I can see is a blur of paint, a bunch of words that I do not recognize, the syllables struggle to get free of the cage that is my throat.

Mrs. Hill tries to appease my nerves but in vain. There are no reassuring words that can eliminate the shame that rises deep within; how idiotic it is to be sixteen and not know how to write or read. The pens and pencils lean clumsily on my fingers, and the curves and shapes of the letters I try to copy are messy and childish.

Natalie and Adam used to make me spell out loud every word, though Mrs. Hill says it helped my development, I see no improvement. I make an effort to practice in my free time, trying to speed up the process.

The nights are reserved for research: every evening without exception, my parents and I gather around the kitchen table to go through the alpha's files