I’d been f****d from the beginning. Mother is a nut-job, and my brother, a pedophile. I have the misfortune of completing this lovely little triad.
My name is Roscoe Rydell, born in 1953. We live out in the boonies in West Memphis, Arkansas.
To my knowledge, no one ever realized Mother had been pregnant. She’d refused to get medical care and convinced herself that, on occasion, hospitals stole newborn babies who proved to be of superior intelligence. She believed, beyond a doubt, that any offspring she produced would fit the bill.
I’d been born at home under the watchful eye of my brother and the American flag, which hung from the bedroom’s ceiling. Mother had been adamant I’d be female. She already had a ten-year-old son when I’d come along. She’d wanted to complete our little family w
