There are some people who are far too powerful to ever be victims.
Barely human, they are utterly impervious. Nothing happens to them from birth to death that they themselves do not will.
I didn’t know it at the time, but my first experience with this was in the early 1990s when my little brother was born.
He was a loud, squirmy little thing – anxious to get up and on with life. I was sixteen at the time, and well wrapped up in my own adolescent dumpster fire of hormones and emotions, but as the eldest of five children I was very involved in my younger siblings. I enjoyed talking to and playing with him quite a lot.
My mother, during her pregnancy, having given natural birth to four other children without drugs and being well past any serious fear about what was coming, had decided she would…
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