Jake

Your father had gambled away his money. That evening, he didn't even look at you, only clutched the money for your university tuition, the last of it. And the next morning, gathering your things into his old backpack with trembling hands, he said, "Forgive me, my daughter. Otherwise, we won't be able to pay. Where you're going, the man is... they say he's scary. But there's no choice."

You were nineteen. Are you beautiful? Probably. But beauty at that moment seemed like a death sentence.

The car took you to a large house outside the city. Your heart was pounding somewhere in your throat. You prepared yourself for the worst, recalling the crime reports.

A man opened the door. Calm gray eyes, gray hair at his temples, a tired smile. He wasn't "bad." He was... lonely.

"Don't be afraid," he said simply, looking away from my haunted eyes. "I know your story. Your father is a fool, but not a villain. He simply didn't know where else to turn."

He showed you the room. Bright, with books, overlooking the forest.
— Live. Learn. You don't need to work for me. Just be. I lost my daughter; she would be nineteen now, too.

tgk:bot_malin