When I was a little girl, my sisters and I played together in the kitchen. I kept noticing a set of knives that were on the counter. I wanted to look at one of them. But my mother kept moving them farther away so I couldn't reach them. One day I found myself alone in the kitchen. And I couldn't believe my eyes. There was a small step stool near the dishwasher. I had to move the stool over, and this required great effort. But soon I had a large kitchen knife in my possession! I was elated. I procured the longest knife and hid it in my clothing. I brought it to school with me the following day. In Kindergarten class, as the clock ticked, I became bored and frustrated, sleepy, and I wanted immediate attention. I took the knife in my right hand and stabbed a girl across from me repeatedly. Blood spattered everywhere. The class was in shock, in disbelief. I saw the teacher's black hair frizz up as she screamed.

I remembered little about what happened next. But I found myself in an orphanage. Living in the place was torment. All of the rooms looked like large cellars. The adults abused the children. Months passed. And then one of the women began to tell me that my mother and father might take me back. I wanted to go home badly - I just wanted to be out of such a place!

Another month passed. It seemed like a year. The day began like any other day. All the girls sat at a long table where there were different clocks on the walls, each one giving a different time. I was too little to know how to read clocks. A raw potato was placed in front of each of us. I don't know why. No one ate them. The day was long. It dragged on endlessly.

Then suddenly it seemed like I had only blinked, and I was led by a stern old woman into a dented, beige car outside. Breathing fresh air was exhilarating. There were other people with me in the car, two adults, and a back seat full of kids of different ages, and lots of luggage. I didn't recognize anyone. But I was home.

A childcare worker visited every day for a while. My siblings and I made poison for the woman with the flaxen hair. We'd get a tall glass, fill it with all kinds of food from the refrigerator, and garbage from the pail, put a napkin and a rubber band over the glass to disguise what was in it, and lastly - we stuck a straw through the napkin and pretended it was a milkshake. Somehow, we never got the lady to drink the poison. Stabbing would have been more effective.