D A H L I A
I have always known that I was different.
Different in everything.
I was different and I knew it very well, but I tried to calm myself down.
I was different in all aspects that I could think of. Ever since I was a child, I knew that I was aware of the stark difference between my situation and that of the wealthy family I lived with when I was kid. That boy, that little boy that kept playing in the backyard, that little boy who was always following his older brother, that damned little boy who was so loved and appreciated by his parents, and his grandparents. That little boy that was always looking and obviously wanting to play, but did not ask. That little boy who knew I was the maid’s daughter, but treated me like an equal. That little boy named Alistair.
As I grew up
