“Why are you all so pretty?” It all started when I was six years old. I was homeless. They were held prisoner. I saved them. Even though it put me in the system. They believed we built an unbreakable bond forged by trauma. These beautiful, damaged boys saw me differently than the rest of the world. As much as I wished I could feel the same. I couldn’t. These boys–men–had too much anger. Too much hate. They wanted to burn down anything and everyone who had wronged them. It was eating them up inside. I tried to warn them. Instead of listening to me, they were set on destroying themselves. And me in the process.