"Nobody's born broken," Malcolm notes softly. "Somebody breaks us. Devouring something smaller or more vulnerable is an easy way to feel powerful for a moment. It's a sign of weakness," he says almost sharply. "It's something weak people do."

This time, when his fingers absently find his face, it's the scar on his lip, not the bruise on his jaw. "I got beat up a lot after school, but one day they knocked me down into a concrete bench alongside the playground. Split my lip, knocked me out. Blood everywhere. I think they thought they killed me, because they ran away. I'm not saying I was popular before my father was arrested, but I kind of preferred being called 'twinkle-toes' and getting shoved around a bit to being called 'psycho' and getting hit in the face."