The Lost Boy [antikvár]

Winter 1970, Daly City, California - fm alone. I'm hungry and I'm shivering in the dark. I sit on top of my hands at the bottom of the stairs in the garage. My head is tilted backward. My hands became numb hours ago. My neck and shoulder muscles begin to throb. But that's nothing new - I've learned to turn off the pain. I'm Mother's prisoner. I am nine years old, and I've been living like this for years. Every day it's the same thing. I wake up from sleeping on an old army cot in the garage, perform the morning chores, and if I'm lucky, eat leftover breakfast cereal from my brothers. I run to school, steal food, return to 'The House' and am forced to throw up in the toilet bowl to prove that I didn't commit the crime of stealing any food. I receive beatings or play another one of her 'games,' perform afternoon chores, then sit at the bottom of the stairs until I'm summoned to complete the evening chores. Then, and only if I have completed all of my chores on time, and if I have not committed any 'crimes,' I mscy be fed a morsel of food. My day ends only when Mother allows me to sleep on the