842 Days in the Asylum: My Family’s Gift
Now, I had sold it, fifteen years of memories, the last piece of the life I used to have, all for eight hundred dollars.
I stared down at the bills in my hand and took a slow breath.
From now on, Lyra, you live for yourself and just yourself.
…
Two years passed in a blur.
After leaving New York City, I settled in a small town and found work at a local barbecue restaurant. It wasn't anything fancy, but with my history and my condition, it was probably the best job I could hope for.
Most days, only two people worked there.
The owner hadn't wanted to hire me at first. Then she accidentally saw the fading bruises on my arms. Something softened in her eyes.
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