I realized with a jolt of fear that I could no longer remember what any of the numbers meant. The pain pulsed again, deeper and more aggressive this time, making my vision blur for a few seconds. I pressed my palm against my side beneath the desk and shifted my weight carefully in the hard plastic chair.
I tried to tell myself that I had simply pulled a muscle during gym class or that I was suffering from a bout of indigestion. I began constructing excuses for my own body before anyone else had the chance to accuse me of lying. This was another habit I had learned at home, as I was always prepared to defend myself before the trial even began.
My name is Kellan Thorne, and I had spent the majority of my life being treated like an unwelcome reminder of my mother’s past. Meredith Thorne had become pregnant with me during her second year at the university in Nashville. That was the only part of the story she ever shared consistently.