My name.... Jacques. That was the only thing I was really sure about. The rest was a blur in my mind, at first. It might've been Alzheimer's. It could've been old age. It could've been anything at all. The more I thought about it, the more confusing it became. And when I became confused, my head hurt... worse and worse, every time. I didn't know what was coming for me. I also didn't know the twelve others that...
There’s going to be a time in your life when you don’t know who you are and where you came from. You won’t understand why you don’t fit in and why you’re so different. You will feel like an outsider, the old and torn-off crust of society. For me, that happened when I was five. I had just been placed in a foster home, had repressed my past few days, and another kid asked what my name...