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There I was at fifteen, holding my mom’s hand, walking into my stepdad’s house. nervously.
He sat on the couch, scowling as he sized me up, while my stepsister devoured a cream cake beside him.
I couldn’t help but eye the cake hungrily, swallowing hard.
My mom caught this and slapped me so hard that I tumbled to the floor.
“Embarrassing creature! Get down and show some respect! Look at you, drooling over cake like you deserve it!”
I stood my ground, refusing to kneel. My mom forced my head down, banging it repeatedly against the cold floor until my face was smeared with blood. Only then did my stepfather crack a satisfied grin.
That night, I was allowed to sleep in the
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living room.
In the dead of night, my bandaged wounds. throbbed painfully from infection. Curled on the floor, I whimpered quietly.
My stepsister, on her way to the bathroom, heard me and yelled, “Get out of here!”
My mom and stepdad were also awakened by the noise. They all looked on coldly as I tried to explain, but my mom interrupted
- me.
With an icy tone I’d never heard before, she suggested, “Maybe you should sleep in the hallway.”
Terrified, I curled up in the dark hallway, shaking uncontrollably.
I whispered to myself, “Hold on, Lexi. Just a little longer till dawn.”
But I almost didn’t see the next sunrise.
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