It has been exactly one year since that rainy night.
Elowen and Sylas are currently facing yet another eviction. They never bothered to change their spending habits, and my mother is still desperately draining her own meager retirement accounts to bail them out. She frequently leaves me voicemails complaining that I am a terrible daughter for never sending them money.
I simply delete those voicemails without listening to the end.
Instead, I sit by the large, sunny window in Mr. Gideon’s now-spotless attic room. I recently passed all my first-year nursing exams with high honors, completely debt-free. Every Sunday evening, I cook a massive roast chicken, and Mr. Gideon and I eat together, happily arguing about classic literature and the terrible quality of diner coffee.
Sometimes the truest family you will ever find is built from the unexpected kindness of total strangers.
PART 2: The Night They Asked Me To Give Up My Future Again
The second time my family came for my future, they did not call first.
