The smile never left my lips as I packed the last of my clothes into my worn-out luggage. I set it down on the wooden floor, it was light since I didn’t really have many things to bring. I only packed the clothes that once belonged to my late mother and my journal.
My fingers gently brushed the necklace I never took off, and I looked around the small attic room that had been my home for the past eighteen years after my father put me here when I was five years old.
The attic was cramped...