It feels wrong writing a review on this and really, I am speechless. I’ve never read a more devastating and disturbing book as this one. It’s just not enjoyable at all. It’s a “curiosity killed the cat” type of read where you hear so much about it, you think you’d never read it, then you think one day you can do it…you do it and you really aren’t ever the same after. 

While you can’t even believe this ever truly happened to someone, it did. It very much did & I’m sure not even the surface of emotions, actions, and events were remotely encapsulated in this book. None of us will ever know truly how Meg felt. Because it’s something unimaginable. Why was this book written? This was a story that needs to be known, but did it need to be retold in a somewhat fictionalized novelization? You endure so much in these pages that I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand why I read it, but I will say that Ketchum is a horror author that has explored the darkest corners of the human psyche and what happens when that breaks, and he’s done it well.  What happens when you’re just a young boy & everyone around you is constantly telling you it’s all okay? That is where the depravity of this story digs deep into the psyche of the reader and rips it to bloody, flapping shreds. 

At some point in our lives, we’ve all been that young girl & that young boy. We’ve all been kids that have grown into teens, have had crushes, have felt the flutter of attraction in our bellies, but what happens when those are clouded by the maniacal judgement of someone deeply, deeply unwell? An adult that has only shown you adoration and safety in the past? This book explores that madness and depravity in grave detail. 

While I recommend this novel to literally no one in the entire human existence, there is something profoundly impressive that one person took a story and reminded us all how deeply fragile human beings really are.