In My 20s, I Railed Against Anything

My Name Is Salmon, Like The Fish; First Name, Susie. I Was Fourteen When I Was Murdered.

Inside The Snow Globe On My Father's Desk, There Was A Penguin Wearing A Red-and-white-striped Scarf. When I Was Little My Father Would Pull Me Into His Lap And Reach For The Snow Globe. He Would Turn It Over, Letting All The Snow Collect On The Top, Then Quickly Invert It. The Two Of Us Watched The Snow Fall Gently Around The Penguin. The Penguin Was Alone In There, I Thought, And I Worried For Him. When I Told My Father This, He Said, "don't Worry, Susie; He Has A Nice Life. He's Trapped In A Perfect World.

She Liked To Imagine That When She Passed, The World Looked After Her, But She Also Knew How Anonymous She Was. Except When She Was At Work, No One Knew Where She Was At Any Time Of Day And No One Waited For Her. It Was Immaculate Anonymity.

When I Was Raped I Lost My Virginity And Almost Lost My Life. I Also Discarded Certain Assumptions I Had Held About How The World Worked And About How Safe I Was.

I Was Like I Was In Science Class: I Was Curious.