It starts off small, comments about her hair, her complexion and her habits. They come in a never-ending stream chipping away at her self-worth. She wonders why she should endure it, but then understands it’s either this or the streets. She has no one to turn to except for this harridan and her forever upset and high strung daughter.
She begins to push back, a snide comment here or there. Using her newly discovered strength to crush a small metal statuette. How the harridan gets upset when she sees the crumpled lump. She has no explanation for it and must throw away the million dollar piece of junk.
It goes further as the years go by. By the time she’s turned fifteen, she has a toxic hatred for the harridan’s lifestyle, her manicured picture perfect sob stories about Jessica. She escapes out of the house, not even the tentative friendship she’s built with Trish enough to shield her heart.
She hangs with the wrong crowd. Drugs and cigarettes fill her days out of the house. She loses her virginity to some scrub. She doesn’t give a damn about the fact he’s ten years older than her. She only cares about the scandalised expression on the harridan’s face when she discovers them in her room one morning.
He’s carted off, her name is kept out of the paper, and the whole thing is kept quiet. The cycle continues. She starts hanging out with the loners and the jocks and the losers. Whomever will have her company .
She finds herself gaining a reputation as a slut, but she doesn’t care. She has control of herself, and it’s something the harridan can’t take away. What’s she going to do? Put her in a charity belt.
So she hosted grunting and sweaty boys between her legs, smells cheap car upholstery more times than she can count and endures. Sometimes they reciprocate and she mewls under their fingers or lips or cock, and she is happy for a short while since her family died.