The sound of rain hitting my bedroom window was the only real company I had. Outside, the world was wrapped in mist and shadows, exactly how I liked it. In here, among melted candles and posters of dark bands, I could finally breathe.“Lara!” My adoptive mother’s voice echoed up the stairs, cutting through my moment of peace. “Come down now, your father and I need to talk to you.”I sighed, dragging myself out of bed. My bare feet stepped on books scattered across the floor as I headed to the door. At twenty years old, in my own house, they still treated me like a rebellious teenager.I went down the stairs and found them sitting in the immaculate living room, where nothing was out of place. My mother, Margaret, had her hands firmly resting on her lap, while my father, Richard, read something on his tablet as if I weren’t even there.“Yes?” I asked, crossing my arms.Margaret didn’t waste time.“We received an email from your college today. About that internship position in the litera
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