Chapter 1
Every morning starts the same.
Fay wakes me up using her right foot, shaking the bed.
Sometimes she tells me there’s an earthquake. Sometimes she tells me the house is on fire.
Honestly, I’d take either disaster over having to open my eyes and figure out life.
Figure out life.
Those three words have plagued me since the day I was somehow handed a diploma, then told to go out in the world and make something of myself.
I had no idea what anyone had thought, telling me something like that.
It was a little amazing how much older I felt now.
Even though I still lived under Fay’s roof.
For the record, Fay has been raising me since she was ten years old.
She tried for a while to play it off that we were sisters, or some kind of bullshit lie about being family.
Except we were the total opposite in looks.
She had a dark complexion, totally exotic with almost yellow-amber eyes.
A vicious look on her forever pretty face.
Even though she looks so much older now than her actual age.
I’m not sure if that’s because of her life or dealing with me.
When I was younger, I thought Fay was a nurse.
Apparently, I had been dropped off on her porch with a note that read for her to take care of me.
Now, who in the world would leave a baby with a ten-year-old girl, right?
I never got much else of the story besides that. And that only happened after I totally called Fay out for lying to me about being family.
So, yeah, I always assumed Fay was a nurse.
She worked long hours late at night. She always came home tired and looking beat up.
Not physically.
(Although that did happen a few times because her choice in men was terrible.)
Then I found a nurse’s outfit on her bed one night.
So, I just assumed.
When I found out Fay was a stripper, it didn’t bother me.
Why would I judge someone for how they make a living?
I mean, if she was a nurse, she would have been a great nurse.