Matteo's POV

“Matt, Matt.” My mother whispered, her touch light on my face. “It's okay, it's okay.” She cooed. I remembered this day, the fondest memory I had of my mother.

“They are afraid of me.” A much younger me cried, clutching my mother's checkered dress, “ Is it true?”

“Is what true, my son?” Her hand brushed a curly strand of hair from my eyes, giving me a clear view of her crystal blue eyes.

“They said I was strange, that I wasn't normal, and that's why we don't use the scissors in class when I'm around.” Mother sighed, thinking of the right words to say.

“What direction does...