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Craving Resurrection

Craving Resurrection

Description : Craving Resurrection

All my life I’d been ordinary. Ordinary body: medium sized hips, five-foot-six barefoot, size seven shoes, average breasts—a C-cup on my good days or after a few extra Big Macs. I was neither fat nor skinny, but somewhere in between. Ordinary features: boring brown eyes and a nose a little large for my face, fullish lips, but nothing to write home about, and one of my front teeth was a bit crooked which caused a slight overlap that I hated and, therefore, my smile in every photo from the time I was seven and got my adult teeth was closemouthed.

The only things that stood out about me—not that they were really all that interesting—were the two fingers missing from my left hand and my long black hair. I couldn’t remember ever actually having the fingers, so I never really missed them, and I’d inherited my hair from my dad. I loved it, and kept it really long. I’d never cut it much, just trims every six months to keep it healthy and so I didn’t look like some sort of cult member with hair hanging to my ass. It was shiny and thick and reached just below my bra strap, so I could do anything I wanted with it. French braids, coronets, fancy up-dos, a long, silky ponytail, I’d learned to do it all.

It was one of the only things that I had control over, and it gave me something to hide behind in every new school and new city that we moved to. I’d lived in fifteen different cities by the time I was seventeen, and the most recent was Ballyshannon, Ireland.

We’d moved to the town only a few months before at the beginning of summer, and it was safe to say it was the hardest town to acclimate myself to. I’d lived in America my entire life, but I had dual citizenship in Ireland and the US because my mother...

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