Figs, who has ever heard of stewed figs? I don't mean the good kind like in Fig Newtons. I mean the kind that is mushy and has all the seeds. The Nuns were very good at seeing we had healthy food, I give them that. They also demanded we eat every bite. It took me years to be able to eat mashed potatoes again, after being sat in the kitchen in front of a stinky pale green plant with loads of small white bugs crawling all over it, to finish my dinner. The smell of the plant fixed itself into my nose hairs permanently.

The other means to make us eat everything was to put us into what I called the cave.

The cave was a dungeon-like cavern basement. They used it for Halloween, that's how scary it was. We were situated in the cave if we didn't finish our meal in time, until we ate every last bite. My little sister, (Whom I rarely got to see as we were in different dorms) was sometimes able to eat mine for me if she was there. She had a stronger stomach than I. One time though she wasn't able to bring herself to eat my soup, mushroom I believe. As the other girls finished their food and began to leave, I was left crying. I would soon be left alone.

In desperation I began looking around and spotted a drain in the floor. That is where my soup ended up and I was finally given a reprieve.

In retrospect, I appreciate how well we were taken care of. We were even given caster oil each morning. The last time I ever had three healthy meals a day was in the orphanage. We would have been so much better off if I could have tolerated the loneliness of it. I was instrumental in getting us kicked out and becoming street urchins by heading a gang to run away.

Soon after we were forced to leave, I walked my sister back to the orphanage and begged them to let us back in. It was miles away from our apartment. They refused. It was a sad and scary walk back. I knew the big mistake I had made then.

I suppose that was just the beginning of poor choices I made in my life. I think I was born a rebel.