pattern. He would disappear, expecting me to fall apart, to flood

o, salvaging what I could. I ate my meals alone. The silence of the huge house, usually a sourc

ds. I was an orphan, taken in by a distant relative who happened to be the Reeds' housekeeper. My w

fought the neighborhood bullies who made fun of my secondhand clothes. He shared his expensive snacks with me when he kne

m in their massive pool. He was the sun, and I was a small planet caught in his orbit. Everyone, fro

titled son. They paid for my schooling, bought me clothes, and treated me like a part of the fam

ng married, living in a smaller, cozier version of his family home. My dreams were all reflec

ago, Tiffany

rt-wrenching story of being a poor, brilliant student from a broken home, fighting to pay fo

fered her a generous scholarship and a part-time job assisting Mrs

, and always eager to help. She would bring Mrs. Reed tea, organize her files,

into her seemingly difficult life. We took her to the movies, invited her to join our dinners. For

ce didn

ffany's voice. The door was slightly ajar. I stopped, no

re complete idiots. They bought the whole sob story. Another few months, and I'll have Ethan wrapped around my finger. That little orphan, Sarah, is the only

ator, and we were her prey. I felt a wave of nausea. My hand flew t