Is 'The Child In You' Worth Reading?

A story about a boy who lives in a human orphanage and doesn't know about his different nature. He can smell, hear as see things with supernatural abilities. He is 20 years old and is dying of an unidentified disease. No doctor seems to find the cause or origin of the disease and no medicine seems to work on the boy. He accepts his fate and waits for the death to knock at his door. But when the son of one of the most honorable and wealthy donor of the orphanage comes for exception that's when his life starts to take a turn. He seems to know about the boy, more than the boy knows himself. A journey of a boy trying to find the creature he thinks lives inside him and understanding that creature....

This book is a must-read for teenagers. It brings out the emotional and physical countenances of most teenagers, in verisimilitude. Anderson Simpson and his friend, Harrison Edgeton, are in for an adventure that would blow your mind. They discovered things about themselves that they never knew or understood, when they went back through time, with the help of an old Time Machine of “The Time Gods"

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”

I was getting my 18th fertility injection, but my husband snatched the syringe away from me. "That thing's tormented you for three years. I heard we'll get a child of our own if we adopt a kid. Maybe we can go with that." He brought home an adorable baby girl that afternoon and called her Cece. He would make a lot of faces to make her laugh and loved her like she was his own. My husband rarely smiled after we got married. It wasn't every day he made a request, and I, cradled by my fantasy of having our own baby, went along with his plan. Three years had gone by since we took Cece in, but I had gotten no child of my own. I was also slightly concerned that she couldn't utter a single word even though she was already four years old. I made a lot of trips and put in a lot of effort to help her. One day, I came home only to find out there were voices in the room. "I miss you, Mom. Please come back soon." Ecstasy caught me in its grip and stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to call out to Cece, but I saw her in a video call through the ajar door. My husband was right by Cece, and his eyes were glued to the screen. They were filled with the kind of devotion I had never seen before. My footsteps went quiet before I realized it. My silence was rewarded when a voice came from the phone, saying, "Mommy's coming back next week, Cece."