I stand in front of the bathroom mirror looking at my reflection, hating who looks back at me. A broken and pathetic shell of a girl who seems to allow anybody to walk all over her. That was not the girl I used to be. I feel the tears coming again. How can my own mother bring this amount of hurt to her own child? It seems unnatural.
I had done as Noah had suggested, gone along with his story and still they found fault, still they saw ways to criticize and still I was the one in the wrong. Still, they found a way to say, well we told you so. Yes, they did. They warned me time and time again about Theo. But even they could not predict the things he would do to me, and I would make sure they never discovered those things either. Just finding out we had ended was hard enough and their commen
