Blake" Fa

ce is seared into my soul-the fuel that bur

zing," but we both knew the truth. My father's influence ca

white paper taped to our door that felt

ld-eaten apartment. I'll never forget the shame in her

d miss school, the gnawing hunge

oice hollow and defeated, beggi

was "feeling unwell," he'd sai

ame again. She would just sit in the da

ever gave

the scent of bleach and quiet sadness. Not for pay, but becaus

ing her sheets, holding her hand, all for the chance,

it w

recommenda

he acce

her trembling hands, and for the first time in years, I

something. Her suffering

ouring everything I had into my

e-a war I couldn't win-a

sacrifice would

build her an empire

me, I w