I know he’s here to help me, but sometimes I feel like he’s overdoing it. Almost bullying me into how he thinks I should live my life. “What took you so long? I was getting worried.” The annoyance I hear is not translating his words of concern. “What’s going on? Why couldn’t you just tell me over the phone?” I dig in my backpack pocket for my keychain. I jiggle the key in the lock and swing the door open, stepping into dark apartment. Jeremy is right behind me, shuffling me inside, his hand already pushing the door closed behind us. “Turn on some lights.” His entitled, overbearing tone raises the hair on my arms. He’s been a part of my life for so long, ever since the day the State of Ohio decided a ten-year-old girl should not be left alone to raise an eighteen-month-old in an apartment with no heat and empty cupboards. I passed from case worker to case worker for years. Ever since my file transferred to him, he’s been in my life. After I turned eighteen and “aged out,”
