For the life of Christine.

It was like a dog without a name or a fish without water, perhaps a troublesome teenage girl without a friend, without a place to call her home. It's a feeling you want to go away, one in which you sit and one in which you pray, but it sticks and sticks like glue to paper, it sticks and sticks like nothing greater. You try to pull it off but it just ends up tearing, tearing through everything that you've worked to make right. It's like a molten plastic attached to human flesh. You feel like a neon in a fish tank being stalked by shark. But who is the shark? For I am Christine.
She, a youn…