Even my art had stopped being an escape for me. The fuel tank I had on my desk was half done, because I lost interest in it. I had stopped painting completely, hiding up in my room, watching others live the lives I'd never have.

My Dad had even refused to let me apply for college next year, because "once you find your true mate you'll be with him." They had this destiny in mind for me, and no matter how I objected or tried to go another direction, they kept going back to it. In two weeks, at a hotel near O'Hare airport in Chicago, I would be led...