The last time I tried catching a star, I was eight years old. My foster father found me on the roof and dragged me down by my hair. He took me to the basement where he beat the shit out of me. I couldn’t even stand afterward. He called me an imbecile and left me lying in a puddle of my own blood while he went upstairs to get the razor. I was too far gone to fight him when he grabbed me by the hair again and shaved it all off. Two days later, when I was finally able to walk, I found the same razor, went into his room, and cut his throat.
