I didn't want to have to explain it again Sure? I - it's a bit of a long story, which is more...your thing, but I can't help that. not really.
[...]
I told you about how the government picked my father and I up, right? They had in these housing areas and made go to school - they gave him this job in a factory. He was - he was always gone and it was terrible. I mean, I guess he had to work but we were fine on the road before. Even if we had to sell the truck, we were fine. I mean, you saw us. Weren't we fine?
There [...] was an accident though. It was my half-birthday, we were going to go to Broadway, he had friends who got us tickets and He got caught in the machinery – it was too late, by the time they stopped it. They said it was his fault, but it couldn’t have been. He wouldn’t have done something like that, he dreamed but he paid attention to details. He was brilliant, he wouldn't have done something like
They put me in foster care right after. It took me three times before they - before they put me with Valerie, but I was already hearing things. I didn't know they were bad until after, you know? No, I mean Not - not literally. Sorry.
They were - well, nice at first. There were three I heard regularly. There was a boy, about my age. He was impossible to not like – he was cheerful, wanted to explore, and was sweet… And I’ll never get to […] He called me Lotte sometimes, instead of Christine. It made me feel a bit better, it made me think he was real – just invisible and out of my reach. And there was an older man, who reminded me of my father. He told stories – about the Nordic lands or a girl named Lotte. He sang too, with the little boy – I learned the songs from them and we sang together.
Did I tell you I can’t sing anymore? I don’t, not really because – I can’t. Not with everything that’s happened. I don’t sing or didn’t until recently. And it’s terrible, because he’s right and I […]
The last one was older, in a different way. Darker – it was the most beautiful voice, I’d ever heard. I noticed things like that then. He- he’d plead or yell – I couldn’t do anything about him. He was the one that responded the least. None of them were of course, but he…he never seemed to be talking to me. Until a few months ago but that’s getting ahead of it, I think.
I was sure they were real, even if they wouldn’t talk to me, even when the other children teased, even when everyone started calling me crazy…They took me to a psychiatrist eventually. Dr. Truman. I went to him for months, took the meds and everything, until they were gone. I kept taking them afterwards. When I was worried about being stressed – I had one accident, in the sixth grade. There was a talent show and I went on stage to sing…and he came with me, shouting about choices like he had before.