Possession Is 9/10 The Law

She always felt like a possession.

Not like a valued, prize, or priceless possession that a person might risk their entire lives to protect. Rather, more like a single flower planted alone, kept in a small vase on an entry table. Set perfectly, to complete the illusion that there are happy lives being lived in this house. Far too busy for her individual needs and attention -

Uprooted and moved, weekly.

Shared, but not fully desired, by two separate households. From babysitters and nannies to travel companions and pre-paid care givers. Holidays, birthdays, every other weekends spent between her mother and father’s houses. Summers split up, at the lake with dad, and the next with mom and her new family. Back and forth routinely. Like a well-earned, special ordered gift, all but wrapped in brown paper package and tied up with string, delivered without delay, from Amazon.

She never knew anything different.

To be frank, there was a part of her that liked, even thrived on the temporary situations this kind of freedom opened for her. She found out quickly that she could get away with most anything and she used it to her advantage. She was never held responsible any real chores or other responsibilities since she was never in one place long enough. She was able to skirt by with little to no attention…