ra. Sure I was only a stepchild to her, and she never let me forget that. The woman saw to it that I was embarrassed at every turn. I wore clothes given to Sandra by well-

spend money on me. She refused to invest one copper cent in me; if she did, it was at thrift stores. Do you know how embarrassing it was to be at

. I told myself to be more innovative and work harder. The teachers appreciated it, and from their e

y high IQ level made my stepmother say I was a braggart and arrogant. Sandra accused me of doing it because I was an a

nd wanting to outshine others. The neighbors talk about us because of her, which is embarrassing.

ng speeches about being humble and not disgr

l memory after another. The day all the torture began was when I lost my mother; I can vaguely recall being happy to have

time to go get

ar–old, I was so st

me besides combing your hair. It's too thick and long. So, get out of b

y of my mother, Catherine, is the reason she made me suffer. And to think my father left that woman in charge of me was devastating! He always believed and

f bed and burst into the bathroom. I felt nauseous, and there I was, vomiting!

rong with me all these years. But, looking back at everything, this is the epitome of be

cold water on my face. At the same time, I was wiping the water away from my red eyes from crying. I looked in t

y. I didn't know it, but they had money, my money! But I looked like an orphan living in a mansion with all the fancy cars, clothes, and jewelry I co

would go away on his business trips,

had to do or else. Then, finally, obedience became habitual for me. I was too afraid that if I weren't obedient, things for me would get worse. Sandra had alre

uilt a wall of ambivalence over the years to cope.

et my menstrual cycle. Sandra didn't tell me anything. I found out what a period was in the worse way possible at school. One day sitting in class, my stomach began hurtin

skirt! She has filth

an't remember his appearance because I was too embarrassed and afraid. I r

y stopped making me get my hair cut off. My hair had grown to shoulder length by tenth grade, but I still wore clothes too big for me and hand-me-downs. But in my tenth-

e around the school grounds. Eden Easterling was a good-looking, well-known, wealthy kid. I never imagined a guy so

ill have m

at the time, I didn't recall any event where we crossed paths. But, of cours

don't remember. Hi, my na

Taylor, Ta

oked good, smelled good, always dressed impeccably, and had everything going for him. And yes, my five minutes of wishing he w

. He never let what they say sway him from being my friend. It made me trust him with all my heart. I k