My throat tightened as I stared at the empty closet, the rows of hangers bare and mocking. They’d stripped it clean, just like they’d tried to strip me of every ounce of dignity and independence I had left. My good clothes, the jewelry I’d bought for myself with my own money, all vanished. No doubt Christine had laid claim to them, prancing around in my things as if she had a right to them.
My room was more like a museum exhibit than a place anyone actually lived. It hadn’t changed since I was a teenager—framed pictures of me with my mom on the walls, books and trophies on the shelves that nobody had bothered to dust. This space was the only place in this house that held any warmth, any hint of who I used to be before they dragged me down into this nightmare of a family. But even here, th
