For as long as I can remember, I've only had one goal: survival. It's what I know. There is no future beyond making it through another night and getting my hands on as much money as possible, by any means necessary. Pride and dignity are things I can't afford.

It's been the worst year yet—and not because I live on the streets. That's nothing compared to being separated from my little girl. But I do what I can, and I send any money I make for her care. I can only hope she remembers me. I'm past desperate, needing her to know how much I love her and that I've done everything in my power to make it back to her.

The day I stepped off the bus in Seattle, I saw him. Adrian appeared at a time I most needed a helping hand, and his habit of rescuing strays became my salvation. He gave me hope. He taught me to dream about something I'd never dared to wish for.

A home.