From Savior To Scapegoat

, sixteen years old and running from a home that was no home at all. I was nineteen,

the first person in her family to ever do so. I poured concrete in the freezing winter and hauled trash i

bout, was filled with my sweat and sleepless nights. My own life was a series of sacr

at a prestigious firm, the kind of place wit

rom me at our wobbly kitchen table, the one

, her voice flat.

rd for other people, for broken marriages, not

about?" I asked. My ow

She stared at a spot on the wall just over my shoulder.

who loves you," I sai

n. What we had... it was a survival pact. You saved me, and I' m grateful. I truly am. But it

years of my life, re

a weight that settled deep in my bones. I looked at her, at the professional, polished woman she

n' t have the energy

rd myself say. "If th

eement, a flicker of something unrea

small, empty room, and she had nowhere to go. But somewhere along the way, for me,