Fallout (Crank 3)
Page 19
they will. Sure they’ll know.
Sure they’ll think I’m crazy.
The only person I can talk to
is Aunt Cora. I can go to her
all freaked out. Can scream,
“What’s the matter with me?”
And she’ll open her arms, let me
cry and rant, and never once
has she called me crazy. One
time she said, Things happened
when you were little. Things you
don’t remember now, and don’t want
to. But they need to escape,
need to worm their way out
of that dark place in your brain
where you keep them stashed.
THAT FELT RIGHT
And now, when that
unexplained dread
boxes me in, I take
deep breaths, try to
free those bad things,
whatever they are. It
doesn’t always work.
But sometimes it does.
And always, always,
I thank Aunt Cora for
giving me some smidgen
of understanding about
who I am and what