People said it wasn’t fair that I had been let out when I turned eighteen, said I should have been locked up forever. I agreed: it wasn’t fair. The people in charge had hidden me away, then thrown me into a life I hadn’t expected to have to live, in a world I hadn’t expected to have to understand. I missed the clanks and clinks of Haverleigh’s halls, the big metal locks on its doors. “That was my home,” I wanted to say, “my small-letter home. It wasn’t fair to make me leave.”
