Note: This chapter is written in the first person; this is Annika's voice speaking, and it is a flashback! (Ends at the line) WARNING:May contain sensitive content; discretion is advised.

I was seventeen when I moved to New York; country life in South Carolina bore me to tears. I loved my family, but I thought I had a brighter future up north. I went to Woodstock in the summer of 1969; I was fifteen. It was amazing to see all of music's greats on stage—Jimi Hendrix strumming the anthem in his white, fringy costume with a red bandana around his thick, black afro; Santana, another legendary guitarist, gave an unforgettable encore with Soul Surrender; Grateful Dead's late-night set was cut short after the stage amps overloaded during a number; Janis Joplin crooned Piece of my Heart on magic mushrooms—phew, what a time I had. I was with my best friends Richie, Bob, Mike, and Dale. They are like my second set of brothers, and they lived nearby in Barnville. Dale brought the weed—that's when I wanted bigger and better things.

Well, enough with that. I moved to New York in 1971; I was seventeen, as I said. I dropped out of school, but it wasn't like I was doing well; actually, scratch that, I was good in English. Yeah…English. I've always loved to write, and I wrote my first song when I was fourteen, and I play guitar, so I was able to set it to music. It was my first kiss that inspired it; it was with a boy. That boy was Richie. We were hanging out, and I guess he just, well, you know, kissed me. Right on the lips. It was literally four seconds; yeah, I counted. I couldn't wait for it to be over. It felt wrong, for some reason. When it was over, a huge grin came over his face—I smacked him silly. It wasn't that hard when I hit him. So we just laughed it off before going to his house for dinner.

When I went to New York, I realized why I hadn't particularly enjoyed Richie kissing me. I took a job as a checkout clerk in a convenience store. After about four months or so of working there, someone buying milk dropped the carton and it exploded all over the floor. Once I heard the noise, I ran out from behind the counter and rushed to help the person, getting a shit-ton of paper towels and laying them on the floor. I looked up after trying to get the towels to absorb the milky mess, and saw a beautiful, and I mean beautiful, girl. I was thinking to myself, how can someone so gorgeous be clumsy?

"Well, don't just sit there staring at me," the girl said, looking at me with her big brown eyes. "Clean the mess." She was a snotty bitch at first, but I liked it. She was feisty.

"Uh…" I was at a loss for words. "Last I checked, I'm the one that works here."

"Yeah, clean it," she snapped.

"Well, excuse me, pushy," I said in response, standing up and looking down to realize she was shorter than me. Her chestnut brown hair was feathered with a light fringe covering the side of her forehead, and she was pretty well dressed. She seemed intimidated, and I smirked playfully down at her.

"Not so tough now, are you?" I asked jokingly.

"Well, that's easy for you to say. You're a guy," she said, her bitchface making me distracted and at a loss. Well, I actually just laughed in her face; I turned purple. I was so used to being mistaken for a boy that I just lost it. People in school always made fun of me for how "manly" I looked; it hurt, and even my Mamma tried to make me more girly. She failed miserably everytime. So, this girl, I looked like a total idiot in front of her, but her face went blank. I regained my self control and looked at her straight in the eye, sighing.

"You got it all wrong," I said, looking at her with my lips parted. "I'm actually a girl."

"Give me a break," she replied. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"I'm serious," I said. "I just get mistaken for a guy all the time."

"Yeah, sure," she answered with disbelief, opening the commercial fridge to take out another thing of milk and walking away to the register. I ran after her and went back behind the register, looking at the girl with a smirk as I rang up the carton of milk.

"Want me to prove it?" I winked.

"Ugh," she scoffed. "No!"

"Then why won't you believe me?" I asked. She proceeded to take out a notepad, and it didn't take me too long to find out she was writing down her phone number. As she gave me the money in exchange for change, the slip of paper was given with the cash. I looked down at it and shook my head.

"Come to think of it, you're pretty cute," she said, batting her eyelashes at me. I lost it; my heart raced like crazy. "I'm Melissa, by the way."

"Annika," I replied.

"You're not a girl. There's no way," she said, shaking her head. Her bitchface came back, and I laughed.

"My name is Annika," I told her.

"Call me," she said, about to leave the store with the carton of milk.

"Even though I'm a girl?" I asked in shock. Was she serious? Well, either way, she didn't answer me. As she left, I just checked her out—she had a nice ass.

So, I ended up calling her that night. I thought she gave me a fake number as a sick joke, but I was shocked when she answered the phone. I was also high as a kite, and I was working on my second joint of that night. I wasn't nervous like an idiot—I was relaxed as I heard her pick up; Richie was next to me doing his own thing. I looked over to see it was coke arranged in lines as I heard the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's me," I said. "Annika."

"Oh, hello," she said.

"Well, you wanted me to call you," I stated. "Where do we go from here?" I took a puff of the ganja as I heard her sigh.

"Well…" She trailed off. "Let's hear your answer."

"I think you should go out with me," I said. I can't believe how direct I was! Wow, good going, Annika! But then, she laughed haughtily.

"What?" she asked.

"Yes. I am asking you out," I said. What did I get myself into? She'd say no anyways.

"Saturday?" Oh, uh…ok. I was surprised for sure.

"Yup," I said.

We talked for about two hours that night, and that Saturday was our first date. Melissa…pretty, eighteen-year old Melissa…she was my first relationship. She got snippy with me and was moody, but I liked her a lot. What I found funny was that she thought I was a guy even though I had a girl's name. Like, how the fuck does that work? Ugh…well, needless to say, she was my first time. Ok, didn't understand me the first time? I'll say it again. Read my lips—we went all the way! Yes! And it was real good, too! My God! I remember the look on her face when she first saw me naked; she looked down at my pelvis and blushed like crazy.

"Don't worry. I won't bite," I crooned softly, looking down at her as I pulled her curvy frame closer until her breasts smooshed against my flat chest. "Come here, baby."

Jimmy looked at his daughter, remembering they were the same exact words he had told a woman he had serviced in his youth—he glanced down at one of his disfigured hands, shaking his head with a smirk.

I pressed my lips to hers—she tasted like sugar, but better. We went to her bed, and I was on top, trailing my lips down her neck and to her rack; she had a nice one, and I licked each of her breasts all over, sucking the weight of them as I reach down to feel her through her panties. Just having sex with a woman…well…it made me feel so alive. For pretty much the whole night, I made her body shake and I made her scream out for God—fuck, who am I kidding? I was God; a god with an enthusiastic tongue and fingers that touched the right spots. The taste of her dripping womanhood made me so aroused; I was literally going to scream myself. Better yet was when I grinded myself against her—it was bliss, just feeling our liquid sex mingling until we climaxed. We fell asleep; my head was nestled on her boobs—it was real damn good.

We slept together like that a few more times. For a second, I thought each time got better and better. Actually, within two or three months, she broke up with me. I didn't even see it coming—she was distant for a week and a half until she finally called me up. She was very trivial and cryptic at first, stuttering like a goat. Turns out…well…she liked someone else. I felt pretty bad, but she hurled an insult at me. So uncalled for.

"At least this guy has a schlong," she told me. I rolled my eyes, and before hanging up the phone, I screeched.

"I'M NOT A GUY, YOU BITCH!" I slammed the phone back on the receiver and sulked forward, rubbing my eyes roughly with my hands as I pushed my frizzy bangs away from my face. Within a few moments, I saw Richie and Dale looking at me with concern; Dale was holding a bag of something. I didn't know what.

"Wow, you seem happy," Richie said, sitting next to me.

"That girl broke up with me," I said.

"Hey, chill out," Dale said, trying to be positive. His happy-go-lucky attitude annoys me so much when I'm angry or upset. He tossed the little bag on the coffee table, looking down at me. "I have something that can help."

"What is it?" I asked, taking a look at the baggie—there was a brown powder. It was weird as all hell.

"Smack," he replied. In my years of living up until that point, I had only smoked cigarettes, joints, drank liquor and used shrooms once at Woodstock; this was all so new, but I would try anything at that moment to take my mind off what had happened.

Dale and Richie showed me how to shoot it up, heat it up, and make the powder into liquid. I refused to use a dirty needle they had used, so I just requested a brand new one. Richie did the honor of giving me my first dose; Dale tied something around my upper arm to pump up my veins. Once the needle entered, the fluid ran through every vein in my body, traveling through every extremity until it reached my head; my brain swam in my head. It was better than sex, better than Melissa, better than anything—I had become hooked.

Jimmy gasped in shock, and as he began to say something, Annika stopped him.

Just listen. Yeah, I know, I began an addiction. That wasn't the only thing. I snorted lines, too. Richie knew a dealer. He had really good stuff, like, the best stuff you can get for under twenty dollars. Every hit I got, I felt like I was touching heaven. Hell, even playing Led Zeppelin made me feel like I was on the stairway to heaven…God, it was good. I was fired from my job a couple months down the road. They found powder on my nose.

"What the hell, Annika?" Jimmy wondered with an emphatic tone, shocked his daughter would do such a thing.

Look, I know it's a stretch, but I didn't spend all my time doing shit. I went to parties and met other girls. When I was twenty-two, I can remember being with…uh…let me think…well, a lot of girls. I can remember their names, actually; Pamela, Rita, Jessica, Sandra…ugh…the list goes on. They all loved me. For the first time in my life, I felt accepted. Hell, I remember snorting coke off their cleavages, just burying my face in their tits. Oh yes, it was fucking amazing.

"Are you clean now?" her father asked. He didn't want to hear anymore, but this was one thing he wanted the answer to.

I was just getting to that. I was in the club, the disco. It was my first trip to a disco, but not my last. I had snorted a couple lines and shot up before going. I even took a happy pill. Phew, I was crazy! That dance floor was insanely awesome! I mean, Donna Summer was playing. Ain't nothing better. I was wearing my…my white suit with a black shirt under it. It buttoned up and had a long collar. I was fresh to death! But…then I bumped into someone and they pretty much fell on the dance floor. I felt really bad for who I knocked over, so I helped her up.

"Are you alright?" I asked. That's when she looked at me.

She had to have been the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. It wasn't like first laying eyes on the next sleaze I'd have a fling with; this was serious shit right here. Her eyes are…oh god, they were like ice…like, oh my god, like really blue. Her hair is very long, and it…ok, you know how Elina's hair so blonde it's white?

"Yeah," Jimmy replied, looking at her and listening to her.

Well, her hair is like that, but black. Intensely black. Down to her ass….straight…flowing…she was wearing a circlet-styled headband when I met her. And a pretty dress, frilled on the top. Audrey Trenton, that's her name.

"Is she your girlfriend?" her father asked.

Well, she has a special place in my heart. I think it was love at first sight, and it wasn't the drugs doing it to me. I knew they had worn off. Turns out she hit her head a bit while falling, so I took her to a table nearby and put some ice in a napkin for her in case, and that's when our eyes met for real, in a gaze that lasted at least a minute. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other; I was in a state of shock. It was like a void in my heart had been filled up just by being with her.

"Uh…" I was very dumbfounded by the feelings I had developed toward her.

"Thank you…for…uh…" I could tell she was also nervous. There was definitely a connection between us.

"Picking you up?" I had asked, laughing a bit. She smiled back at me, her eyes glittering at me like blue diamonds.

"Yeah," she replied, taking the ice-filled napkin off her head.

"My…you are really beautiful," I said. There I was, being direct again.

"Well, aren't you kind?" she smiled, blushing like a strawberry. I smiled back at her, just admiring her beauty. "What is your name?"

"I'm Annika," I replied.

"Huh," she muttered; here I am thinking, I'm in trouble. "You're a woman?"

"Yeah," I replied. There was no way she would want to be with me. She was too beautiful and probably straight.

"What a shame, you'd make such a handsome man," she said.

"You too?!" I snapped. I don't know what got into me—I was tired of it being such a surprise that I had a vagina. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

"What is your problem?" she asked. I was surprised she was as assertive as she was.

"Look, I'm very sorry," I said, shaking my head as I felt myself cool my jets. I made up an excuse; "I had too many drinks. I'm sorry I knocked you down, too." I wasn't drunk; I only had one drink that whole night.

"It's ok, really. I'm the one that should be sorry," she told me, taking a breath. "If I offended you, then—" I shook my head and waved my hand.

"No, it happens all the time. People are quick to judge," I said. "I've gotten used to it. See, people think I'm a man because…well…I'm tall and I have no boobs."

"Are you sure there isn't something wrong with you?" she asked me. I still didn't know her name at that point.

"I never got it checked. I never cared to, and where I came from, the doctor is a couple miles away," I replied. "It wasn't like my dad could just take me to the doctor anytime. He worked pretty hard."

"Huh," she muttered. She raised her eyebrows for a brief moment. "I'm Audrey."

"A pleasure," I said, shaking her hand. It felt so soft, much like holding mamma's hand, you know?

"I know what you mean," Jimmy replied with a slight smile. "So…what happened to her?"

Well, that night, she agreed to dance with me, and I was pretty happy. I offered to buy her a drink, but she didn't really want one. So we just danced…then, I walked her home. We talked the whole way about, you know, things. Like how mamma is from Sweden and how you own land—

"Did you tell her I was in a freak show?" he asked, joking.

Nah, I didn't bother, honestly. Ok, what was I saying…oh! So from that night on, we were inseparable. We still are, in a way. She's back in New York, she in college to be a nurse. When she first found out I was addicted to heroin and cocaine, she got me help. Put me in a twelve-step program. It was tedious, but it really helped me. The first few weeks was a living hell; withdrawals are no joke. IU was sick as a dog. The important thing is that I've been clean for the past three years or so. I even got my writing discovered and I've been writing songs as a lyricist for a lounge. They needed some original work, so I gave them some songs I wrote. I've been making good money. I spent a lot just showering Audrey with gifts and giving her money to shop if she needed stuff. But…a couple weeks ago, she said she wanted a break.

"Really? After three years?" he asked his daughter.

Well, yeah. I'm still sad by it…she told me she wanted to focus on school and her internships she's been doing to become certified to practice. I respected her decision, but at the same time, I fear she may grow apart from me. I love her so much, and I won't ever let anyone harm her or whatever the case may be. I sent her a letter before coming here. I miss her. I will wait for her as long as she needs it.

"If she needs to take care of business, that's what she has to do," Jimmy told her. The look in Annika's eyes was forlorn and morose—she missed her so much.

"I would give anything to be holding her right now. You don't understand how much I love her. It overwhelms me to the point where I haven't eaten in days," she replied.

"Holy shit," her father answered, a look of disbelief in his middle-aged face.

"That cake Elina gave me earlier was the first thing I've eaten since leaving," she replied.

"You can't not eat, honey," he said, holding her hand in his deformed one. "It ain't good for you."

"I don't care about me. I'm past that point," Annika confessed sadly, looking down at her bare feet. "She is more important than anything in the world. I would take a bullet for her." Jimmy sighed, putting an arm over her shoulder. He thought of Britta; a memory played in his head from his days of being a freak show performer. He had saved the life of his future bride on the last night the troupe performed:

"BRITTA! GET DOWN!"

The firing continued, one shot after another, causing a massive hysteria and panic of unparalleled proportions in the show that had been peacefully taken place. Elsa, the owner of the show who was backstage, gathered up as many people as she could and tried to keep them calm, as did Dell the Strongman, who lent a hand in keeping microcephalic Pepper and Salty calm as they fidgeted and screamed in fear. Jimmy, who warned Britta upon hearing the first gunshot, ran to the stage and tackled her, holding her close and carrying her light body over his shoulder to get her away from the scene—someone had tried to kill her. He was ignorant to the fact that she was pregnant with Annika.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Take that! FREAKS! AND THOSE WHO SUPPORT YOU!" screamed a familiar voice as the two went to hide in the left wing of the stage.

"Dad?" Annika asked, nudging his upper arm to get him out of his painfully nostalgic state of consciousness. He gasped and shook his head rather rapidly, almost a jerk, and looked into her dark brown eyes.

"You know, I love your mother very much. I know how you feel," Jimmy explained. "I would die for her. I almost did at one point, but that's a story for another time." Annika looked at him strangely, but shrugged a bit.

"So…I noticed a lot of the family is gone," she said, recalling the absences of the petit-in-height Jyoti and microcephalic Pepper and Salty at her sister's party that evening. She did, however, manage to see conjoined twins Bette and Dot, Paul, Eve, and Suzy, the woman born without legs. "I see the twins are still here, and Suzy. What happened to everyone else? I know Paul and Eve got married."

"They divorced, but they're still friendly with each other," Jimmy said, realizing how much time had flown. "We invited them to her party. This has been the first birthday party for her in a long time. They're actually sleeping over in the barnhouse I had built for everyone."

"How could I forget that?" Annika chuckled.

"We were all distraught when Jyoti died," her father replied with a sad sigh. Annika's jaw dropped—how could that have been? She was so small, innocent, adorable; why her?

"When?!"

"Three years ago this December," Jimmy said. "She had a lung infection. We took her to the hospital a couple cities over, and we all visited her like no tomorrow and prayed she'd get better. She died before Christmas Eve."

"Oh, my God!" She felt a single tear roll down her cheek, but she wiped it away. "I never got to say goodbye…"

"She knows you loved her," he said, side-hugging his daughter. "Remember when you were little? You had some friends over? She always brought a smile to our faces. That is what we should remember.

"And Pepper? Salty? What happened to them?" she asked, remembering their simplistic ways of making the family and the other former carnies smile.

"I tried to fight the law on that one, kid," Jimmy said. "They were taken to an institution two years ago. Apparently, Britta and the twins had taken them out to town to run errands with some help, but some family said they were making children uncomfortable in the playground. It was weird and I didn't believe a word of it. They couldn't be capable of doing that. We had a bit of a lawsuit, I lost…three thousand we were sued for. It really sucked. They took them to a mental hospital in Columbia, the city."

"Damn," Annika muttered. "The nerve!"

"Yeah…" Jimmy trailed off, checking his watch—he had been bonding with his eldest child and catching up for three hours. It was now 11:30 at night, and the fireflies had even retired to their dwelling for the night. He stood up and sighed, stretching his legs and arms—he felt a relief, even though his knee hurt.

"It's late," he said with a yawn.

"I'm sorry I kept you up," she replied, standing up and going down off the steps and to the ground with her dirtied-up bare feet. She looked at her dad, seeing the gray that had formed in his hair amongst several remaining auburn-brown sections, and slight wrinkling in his eyes and forehead. She ruffled her strawberry-blonde frizz and pushed it off her forehead, walking back to her Volkswagen camper.

"Will you be ok?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll come join you for breakfast in the morning. It was nice catching up."

"I can say the same," he said with a smile, opening the front door of the house; he was amazed how much his daughter's life had changed, but in a way it was the tip of the iceberg. She was about to find out her real identity, he felt, as an individual.

"Goodnight!"

Jimmy walked up the stairs and to the bedroom, opening the door slightly ajar as he heard the voice of his wife speaking her Northern Germanic tongue to herself, so it seemed. He took a peek to see what had been going on in their bedroom, and he saw Britta kneeling before the edge of the bed, her head tilted upward as if to look to the ceiling or the stars in the night sky. Her hair, reaching the middle of her back, was wavy from the braided bun that held it in place all day, and the few gray hairs that had taken from were far from noticeable. Jimmy listened as she recited aloud:

"Gud, som haver barnen kar,
se till mig som liten ar.
Vart jag mig i varl den rander
star min lycka i Gud's hander.
Lyckan kommer lyckan gar,
den Gud alskar lyckan far,
Amen."

He stepped in as soon as she finished her prayer, and knelt beside her on the floor near the edge of their bed. He looked over at her ageless, beautiful face; she looked very solemn, but her eyes looked reflective, their vivid green sparks flying as her gaze was fixed on her gold cross pendant she had worn often.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Britta sighed, muttering to herself before answering.

"Ja," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Annika…she…" Britta sighed. "I failed as a mother."

"Why the hell would you say that?" Jimmy asked with disbelief, his tone sharp. "Do you seriously want to wake up everyone?"

"Sigrid was right. When she grew in my belly, she was supposed to be a boy. Yet God made her a girl," she replied frantically, gripping her cross pendant as tears developed in her bright green eyes.

Without hesitation, Jimmy took his wife in his strong arms and let her tears be absorbed in his clothes shoulder, lulling her and trying to keep her calm. He was perfectly aware that she was religious, and that for the majority of her childhood, she had religious doctrine ingrained in her head. Was she becoming intolerant like her foster parents had been all those years ago? She is not, he thought to himself, she ain't abusive. She's a good wife and a good mother. She didn't fail one bit.

"It's ok, please don't cry," he pleaded. "Please. You can't help what you can't fix. Maybe it's the case, but Annika's an adult. She's made a lot of…" He thought about her addiction to heroin and cocaine, as she revealed to him that night. He made something up, "good decisions in her life. That does not mean you failed as a mother."

"I tried everything to make her fit in and be like a girl," Britta wept. "Braided her hair, made her wear dresses…gave her dolls to play with. Nothing. Nothing worked."

"It was her free will not to wear those things," Jimmy told her, patting her back as her crying seemed to silence itself. "Remember the first day she came home wearing her friend's clothes? She was happy."

"Elina was the only daughter I really ever had. She is very special," she said, trying to change the subject to alleviate her discomfort. "She inherited my gifts."

"She can cause fires," Jimmy said, smiling at the pride he held in his beloved, beautiful youngest daughter.

"And lift things," Britta said, reaching to point her finger toward the window. She concentrated, trying to slide it up, and sure enough, the window opened itself by the power of her will. As the creaking of the opening window stopped, Britta smiled as a sweet breeze came into the room—it lasted throughout the night