The palm reader predicted I’d finally get a date. When I got home, my inbox was still empty. Even magic couldn’t fight my unending loneliness.
Mr. Parkhurst would make me strip, stare at me while he touched himself, then send me home. I never told, because others had it worse.
Momma’s biscuits cemented inside my mouth. Dry, I said, reaching for my milk. Momma snatched my glass and made me finish the whole batch, dry.
The night before picture day, my sister shaved my head. When she found me crying, she laughed. I’m the pretty one for once, she said.
When I woke up, my boyfriend was a lion. “What happened?” I asked. “Nothing. This is who I am,” he answered. I couldn’t leave him.
I’m never spontaneous, but I left work early to surprise him. He was in bed with the neighbor. If I hadn’t changed , I’d be happy.
We told my mom that the aliens couldn’t get to her in the hospital. I thought she was crazy until I started seeing them too.
If we broke the rules, Momma starved us, then she’d force us to watch her savor dinner. After she died, I was voracious for days.
Grandma made me sleep in the dark. Quit your bitching, she slurred. I’d lie awake, reliving the night Daddy snaked his fingers around Mommy’s throat.
My stepdad made me tattoo his name on my hip. Branding my girl, he laughed. After Momma died, he tried to transform me into her.