«Master Lazar, Mrs. Lazar has strictly ordered me not to let you leave the house until you tidy your room.»
That is how Mrs. Morales—the cleaning lady—delivers her decree.
I do not sleep—well, I pretend to sleep—in my room anymore.
Still, a teenager's bedroom is not only a place to sleep.
It is a refuge.
It gathers the passions of the one who lives there.
Brianne's room overflows with ancient books.
Mine is full of what I like—and no, it is not what people think.
There are no posters of nude MILFs on the walls or a stash of adult films.
(I have Isabelle walking around the house half-naked. Why would I need pictures?)
You will not believe it, but my room is full of video games—mostly fighting games.
Being lucky enough to be adopted by a super-rich woman who always spoiled me, I have always had the latest console.
Back then, my room was the hangout spot for my group of friends—friends I have no idea what happened to now.
Well, no point dwelling on the past.
