K.L. Randis | Spilled Milk
“Just remember, rain doesn’t seem all that threatening at first, but too much rain can turn into a flood.”
For over a year now, every book I’ve finished has been fiction. And to be more specific, I would say about 90% of my read pile in the past 365 days have been a dystopian novel of some kind. I needed to switch it up to expand the old noggin’. So what genre do I turn to next? Incestuous rape, of course! This is because I am a normal, healthy, American woman who, also, has an overly eager fascination with Stockholm Syndrome, as well. Call the police I don’t care.
I remember reading A Child Called It by Dave Pelzer when I was like, I dunno, 7? And I was completely enthralled by the subject matter. I’m aware of the fact that that sentence may lead some to believe I’m a psychopath, or some sort of adorable serial killer. But I promise you, I am h e a l t h y. I’ve always been interested in the dark side of people. The person you never get to see because they’re constantly kept on lock down, hidden behind closed doors. Maybe that’s the writer in me, or maybe a psychiatric evaluation is in order. Potatoes, potahtoes. Whatever the case, knowing people have demons larger than mine is both fascinating and mind consuming to me.
Cue Spilled Milk by K.L. Randis:
I flew through this book so fast, I’m amazed the pages didn’t catch fire amidst my frantic reading. For a moment there, I forgot how amazing memoirs are, and this one was screaming at me from my “want to read” list on Goodreads. Brooke was the oldest of 5 children (I’m the oldest of six), and my soul hurt when she describes her experiences and actions as the leader of the pact. I felt that. Although both “parents” were around, she raised her siblings among chaos. I know what it feels like to be a psuedo-mama bear with children that are technically not your own, but that fact would not stop you from single handedly ripping the limbs off of anyone trying to cause them harm. The majority of her childhood was spent making sure her siblings were safe, while putting herself in harm’s way in order to defend them (girl I see you, I feel you, and I get it). Brooke’s story is one of absolute disbelief and honest-to-god sheer horror, and I found myself physically and rooting out loud for the girl who penned the pages.
The ending of Brooke’s story is one of triumphant, and her ability to somehow overcome incredible odds. The things that poor girl went through… jesus christ. I respect the hell out of you, Brooke Nolan. Keep fighting that good fight.
Buy her book here.
If you or someone you know (or suspect) is a victim of child abuse, call The Childhelp National Abuse Child Hotline – (800) 422-4453. We support you, and we’re here for you. ❤