She knows how at the age of five, my life changed before it had even begun. Father sat me on his lap, whispered that I was different, that I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t if I wanted to grow up with him by my side. It was our own little game, he said. A game of pretend. A game in which he’d already chosen the perfect role for me to play for the rest of my life. “What’s a Psychich, Daddy?” That question is still so vivid in my mind, though it was over thirteen years ago when I’d asked it. Father had just chuckled softly, a seemingly simple sound that I wish I could have memorized. “A
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