The Tutor/How it Began

You were nervous, not only because this would be the first tutoring gig you've had in months and your last chance to make enough money for your rent, but also because this would be the first girl you've tutored outside of family members.

You look at the huge house in front of you as you walk toward the front door. You grew up in poverty, living in a rundown mobile home most of your life; you haven't had too many close encounters with money, but this seems to be one of them. Even the gate that you got buzzed through likely costs more money each month to maintain than the rent for your dinky studio apartment you're living in currently.

You give two small raps with your knuckles onto the large wooden door. There's no response. You notice the doorbell to the side and reach over to press it.

"Don't do that," you hear suddenly from a speaker nearby. "Just come inside and head to the study on the left."

You twist the handle on the door, and it opens wide. You're greeted with a large entryway and a set of winding stairs like those you've seen in movies. You close the door behind you and hear some high-pitched chatter coming from the left.

You go toward the study where the noise seems to be echoing from.