Eighteen. It was supposed to mean freedom. I just didn't expect to find my shit in garbage bags on the stoop. I go to the only person I think might help. The girl I've been seeing on the sly. She's happy to help, but she's got this insane idea... Marry me. She says. Marry her? How can I marry her? I'm just a kid. We're just kids. But she seems to think it will solve my problems. I like her fine, but- Can I do this?...