"You will all dress up someone from your past."

Every word was a slap to the face. Hadley's teeth sunk into her lip, practically drawing blood as she stared at the housekeeper, and stuttered out, [i]"What if you have no one from your past?!"[/i] she exclaimed, practically yelling out of frustration of this mundane task the housekeeper was to have them do. What would she have dressed as? Her father sitting on the couch, several beers scattered as he drank his own weight in alcohol or her mother, finding comfort in every willing man in the neighborhood. What a charade that would be.