Here’s a sneak peek at my second book, Committed: Mercy in the Machine, starting with the prologue.
Enjoy…
I sat there quietly in the kindergarten classroom with my kite for Kite Day. Mrs. Maguin was showing the parents who came for their children. I was nervous and excited that my Dad would come, but to my dismay, the minutes passed by without him coming through the door. Tears flowed from my tiny cheeks as soon as I realized he wasn't coming. I sat there in the middle of the room at the table with my paper kite. The walls were adorned with craft projects and books.
It was the love and fear that I had for my father. He spent most of his time in his computer room, working on computer programming, or in the garage working on projects. I longed to spend time with him, and when he came out of the room, I watched his every move. His voice was usually quiet, but I knew his tone and could tell when he was pleased or upset. I did my best not to get on his bad side. I would hear my parents arguing at night from my room, and that gave me enough reason to stay out of his way.
I was shy and barely able to share my needs and wants. I was a fragile child, but I was also curious about my environment. I obsessed over pleasing my parents, being a good child, and steering clear of my father's anger. I imagined what my life would be like if I could just live in peace in my home. As I grew older, this curiosity helped shape my analytical mind. I wanted to understand why I acted the way I did and why I thought the way I thought.
Following my father's footsteps, I became an autodidact. Like him, I taught myself about the things that fascinated me. As I grew older, I became obsessed with books, and my fascination with body language and psychology grew with me. The mind became a sanctuary for me, a place where I could find peace and let my imagination run.
I found mercy within the walls where hymns were sung and sermons were preached. My walk with God became the core of my being. I didn't know it at the time, but it would eventually become part of how I learned to understand and interpret my suffering.
The machine of my mind was well-oiled, keeping me curious and always searching for answers. The more I learned, the more questions I had about myself. There were times when my mind felt like a sanctuary and times when it felt like a machine I couldn't shut off.
This was the beginning of my journey into Mercy and the Machine.