Dear Everson, It's difficult for me to write this letter because my hand keeps twitching and my tears won't stop falling; I don't even know where to begin because I don't know how to finish what I've started either. I'm going to make a decision that I'll live to regret: when midnight comes and you fall asleep, I'm going to leave your house. And the worst part is that I need to take some of your money—I don't want to do it, but I don't have a choice; I'm back in the scenario where everything is going to fall apart if I don't act. I can hear you talking to Aunt Mary about me tonight, and I am deeply hurt by her words. I thought Aunt Mary had finally accepted me, that she wouldn't question my existence or story any longer. I know I have no right to feel hurt when I was the one who caused you problems, but in my days of living here under your roof, I slowly began to feel the maternal bond to Aunt Mary that I didn't realize I was finding and longing to feel. It's difficult; i

from: xs******@email.comAUGUST"Everson, I know it's been a long time. Guess what? I'm still alive, and I'm still hoping to see you again, but with all the complications surrounding my false death arising because of Archer's actions, people's attention is returning to me. I am content with my new life, and the last thing I want is for people to recognize who I am. I know I shouldn't have been bothering you now that you're successful and only a few months out of college, but I don't know, my fingers have their own minds. I'm still hoping you remember me, and I'm waiting to hear from you."SEPTEMBER"Back in the day, Archer and I used to hang out at this specific place every afternoon. It was known as the "Meadow Woods Library." I was the one who discovered it first, and when I learned that Archer was also interested in reading, I brought him there, and that was also the start of our friendship. We read a lot of books, and because of that, I learned a lot from him. We

Her identity is now known all over the world, making it difficult for her to keep herself hidden from the public eye, but isn't that what she wanted in the first place? For people to be aware of her? But why does it still seem suffocating and dissatisfying?As I glance about, my eyes are drawn to the various types of make-up, eye-lens colors, wigs, and outfits. Even though I am surrounded by light from the bulbs in my vanity mirror, everything feels gloomy. I looked down at my bare face. I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes; I've forgotten what it's like to be honest. I'm always rushing after something, and now that I'm ending things, I'm not sure what my mission is beyond this.I was born on the run, and I've always assumed that's what I was supposed to do. Nothing is enough for someone like me, I am taught that way. And now that I've decided to be normal, which implies wanting to be free, I'm not sure how I'm going to do it, I don't even know what it feels like to be no

"Oh my god, thank you so much! This is the finest gift I have ever received in my life! I really love it!" Exclaimed Dahlia, Susie's mother, as she gazed at the embroidered hoop of flowers Grace had made for her. "Oh my! My ears would be clapping," Grace sheepishly said as she shook hands in front of Dahlia, but on the inside, she was ecstatic that Dahlia liked it. "No, honestly, you are really wonderful at this," Dahlia said as she set the embroidery hoop on a vacant chair to her right. "Thank you so much; I learned to embroider from my mother," Grace said, looking at her mother beside her. Grace's mother, Merriam, teased her, saying, "Grace loves delivering her embroideries to her new neighbors, and you would probably know what she would give you when holiday comes. On top of that, she would really spend her day only doing this, no doubt since our house is extremely filled with her works." They all laughed. "Oh, come on!"

"Why are you crying? You should be happy that mama didn't punish you," Carrie said as she rubbed Allison's shoulder, prompting Allison to glance up at her sister. Carrie was eighteen years old and could live on her own, but their "mama" would never allow her or any of them. Allison sniffed and brushed her tears away, but they still wouldn't stop falling. Her eyes suddenly fell on Carrie's bruises on her bare arms and legs; she had received them just weeks ago when she attempted to flee and seek help from authorities. She was their mama's most trusted child, not just because she was the oldest, but also because she was the best at lying, but now she was just another piece of trash that their mama hid under the basement. "I simply didn't like what I did to Nathalia and her mother," Allison said as she shook her head and sobbed again. Their mother always told them not to cry because it only makes people weak, but Allison was only seven years old and couldn't kee