At My 16th Birthday, My Dad Threw $10 At Me And Told Me To Get Out. I Smiled — And Handed Him An Envelope He Was Never Meant To See.

a long pause. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be sixteen on Friday.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Charity Frost,” I said. Then, softer, “Or maybe Lawson. I’m not sure anymore.”

Another pause, longer this time. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. “Charity, I’m going to need you to tell me everything from the beginning. And I need you to tell me if you’re continue reading …