I need to write this book, which only took 15 years and several blind avenues to make sense in my mind. Now I have the voice and the central theme and the rest will work itself out:
The Brave And The Free
Screaming In the Dark
I think there was always something wrong with me, something fundamentally broken.
My first coherent memory is of being three or so, a chubby little girl with sandy blond hair, standing with clenched fists, screaming at my trainers that no, I wouldn’t do what they said. I would have none of it. And unless they told me why I had to do what they said I would not do it. They couldn’t control me.
Eventually the paddle and the whip, judiciously and liberally applied brought it home to me that the reason to do what my trainers ordered me to do was simple: to avoid pain.
But that didn’t mean I’d forgotten. Inside the impeccably trained Guardian, inside the exercise-hardened body, the procedure-following operative, I was still that little girl, three years old, with my fists clenched tight and screaming my rage at the world.
That angry child could neither be appeased nor silenced. She needed only an opportunity to get out.
She found it with the mission to ensnare Reehat Vorat, his Serenity of Daice.
At least Father had told me that the man we knew as Reehat East was his Serenity in exile, living in disgrace on Earth. I didn’t believe him. This man looked nothing like I imagined, nothing like the Vorat men.