I was beaten up so often in middle and early high school that a friend of mine could tell when I’d previously checked out a library book because if it had a bit of blood on the pages, that meant it was probably mine.

I didn’t do it on purpose, but after I’d get my ass kicked after school I’d come home to read and would often still be dripping blood or it would be on my hands.

Then, a little’d get on the pages of a book I’d immediately pick up when I got home.

My friend would often ask me, “Were you reading Lucifer’s Hammer by Jerry Pournelle recently?”

And I’d say, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Blood on page 327,” he’d reply.

Glad those days are past, and glad they didn’t deeply psychologically scar me.