sia

eded to surviv

p felt cleansing, a penance for a sin I never committed. The work was mindless, grueling. And in the quiet hu

birthday while I worked after school just to afford my own art supplies. My mother, buying her designer g

my shift was ending, the bell

ox. He looked achingly out of place amongst

early lost to the sizzle of the grill. He placed the box o

iceless heirloom painting-a piece of my own dowry-to anonymously provide the seed money for Dante's firs

him with the "investment" as a gift, positioning herself as h

said, my voice level and empty.

a shrill, demanding sound. He answered, and the blood se

's on the roof?" he g

eading for something I no lo

k to the sink full of dir

r. Torn. Then, as always, he chose her. He rushed out

alculated act in the long-running drama of her life, a maneuver designed

water. The chaos of their world felt a million miles a