This novel is based on a true story. Warning the flashback scenes contain vivid mental, physical and sexual content against a child. The victim allowed me to write this novella only after I agreed to write the scenes as they occurred.
The dialogue leading to the victim’s flashbacks are products of my imagination, however the flashback memories are the victim’s. The victim, who remains anonymous, has read and approved this novella.
This book is a memoir based on a true story. The victim and the family have different names and the story line that leads to a flashback is fiction. The flashback is actual events that happened to the victim.
The victim is Maggie. Upon hearing of her father’s death she has flashbacks of all the memories over the years. Her flashbacks tell a story of having a horrid life of mental, physical, and sexual abuse growing up. When Maggie gets older she marries a guy who inflicts all the things that she went through growing up.
The author was so touched by telling Maggie’s story that she had another author write a book of Maggie’s marriage and the things that happened. The book is about the same victim but the character is Tonya instead of Maggie. The book is called Shattered by Valerie Bowen.
The author used a perspective of making up events that lead to the real events that took place. I had never read anything in this format before. I felt confused after reading this book and had many questions. For instance the victim is killed in the book but is alive today. The victim mentions kids in the book. But how many and of what sex is not clear. There is mention of the husband as well as her childhood but the rest will be unknown until the next book is read.
When reading I felt the emotions of the victim. I cried, felt dread, and kept asking myself how all of this was possible. People need to stick up for each other and protect one another. This was a page turner and fast read of 124 pages.
* I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Knevits
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The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.
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