staying alive. that’s never been easy—for you, or anyone in your family. growing up, your mom would share stories of her life. a sixteen year old girl sufficient because she had to be, or she wouldn’t eat. she told stories on your father’s behalf—isaiah was too infatuated with the bottom of a beer can to tell them himself. the dangers of the world mixed with these genetics gave you nothing but trauma and instability.

school was hard. in first grade, your older sister brought you to the basement one night, after school, persuading you to build a pillow fort to sleep in. it wasn’t until years later you realized the sound of banging and yelling was dampened down there, practically inaudible. by fourth grade, you knew to come home and beeline to your room for your safety. seventh grade—isaiah hit you for the first time. your mother finally had enough that year, watching her baby face the punishment for her choices.

high school, though still school, was different. it took a year—your whole eighth grade year—to escape isaiah. custody battles, break-ins and assaults, stalkings, all because he wouldn’t let go of what was his. you started high school at forest hills, in chicago, stayed away from the only home you’d ever known. part of you will never forget the feeling of that first day.

nalani was the only blessing that came out of high school. conversations had in theatre rehearsals became ambition. when you built an acting portfolio, she threw a mini party to celebrate, even if prematurely. and when you won that oscar, after six years of desperately working and a major movie role, she was the loudest in the room. her support as your best friend felt endless.

that peak gave you visibility. and visibility caught the eye of someone with an insatiable desire—stevenne marlowe. you’d later learn that she tricked her parents into believing she would be a boy in utero, entering the world a screaming baby girl, hence the modified name. stevenne acted through calculation; when she wanted something, she acquired it. there were barriers, getting to you—you both work in different spheres of the industry. you seemed to always be in a relationship. and she was 13 years your senior. barriers never stopped stevenne before.

within three years of meeting, you were familiar with each other’s parents, married, and living together. your older sister and mother didn’t approve, but stevenne had ways around that barrier too. in another three years, you’d had three kids through in-vitro gametogenesis. stevie got exactly what she wanted, and now you could try to get what you want. if she lets you.