No Need for More Words
Language: en
My mother died from overwork. She worked three jobs to afford the mortgage on our house, the one in the good school district. Before she took her last breath, she gripped my hand. “Clara,” she whispered, “you have to keep studying. Your education is your life.” I was ten. I didn’t fully understand. Six months later, my father brought a new woman home. Her name was Gable, and she came with a daughter in tow named Willow. She was timid, her eyes like a frightened fawn’s whenever she looked at you. My father said, “Clara, this is your sister. You’re older. You need to be mature about this.” I…