I lost both my parents within eight months of each other.

My dad died first from a heart attack.
My mom completely fell apart after that. I still remember her sitting at the kitchen table holding his sweater like if she held onto it hard enough, he’d come back.

Eight months later, cancer took her too.
After the funeral everybody kept telling me, You’re strong. But nobody understands how cruel those words sound when you’re grieving because being “strong” usually just means you don’t have the luxury of falling apart.

I was barely surviving.

I lost my job three months later because I couldn’t focus anymore. My manager pulled me aside and said,
“You haven’t been yourself.” I wanted to laugh because I didn’t even know who “myself” was anymore.

Eventually I couldn’t afford rent.
The day I got evicted, I sat inside my car for almost an hour staring at my childhood photo with my parents because I genuinely didn’t know where my life was going. That night my uncle called. My mother’s brother.

He told me to come stay with him and his wife until I got back on my feet. I remember crying so hard on the phone because I thought maybe my parents were still watching over me somehow. For a while everything felt normal. His wife treated me............. Treated me like family. Their kids loved me. I helped cook dinner, cleaned around the house, applied for jobs every day, and tried so hard not to be a burden. Then things started changing.

My uncle would wait until his wife left the room before saying things like:
“If I was younger, you’d be trouble.”
Or, “Any man would be lucky to have you in his bed.” many sensitive words

I’d laugh awkwardly and walk away because I didn’t know what else to do.

One night he brushed his hand against my waist while I was washing dishes.

I moved immediately. He just smiled.
A few nights ago his wife worked a double shift at the hospital. Around 1 a.m. I heard a knock on my bedroom door. Before I could answer, he walked in. He sat beside me on the........