“You don’t need to tell me what to do anymore,” I said out loud. I was rehearsing what to say to my stepmother. I was never at the top of her list of people she wanted to treat fairly and now that we had just spend the last week mourning and burying my father, I wasn’t going to take it anymore. She had somehow thought she had controlled (brainwashed) my father into never giving me any kind of help. Little did she know, he helped me behind her back.
Now that he was gone, I was not going to follow her rules and I was not going to be home by nine every night I was not at school. I was a junior in college and paying my own way, I’m not sure what hold she thought she had over me. She was living in my father’s house and had moved her daughter into my bedroom and then taken all of my pictures off the wall.
Now I just needed to practice my speech and make sure I could get my little sister out as well. I was working with a lawyer to get her out, I just had to prove I would be a stable home at 21 as opposed to my stepmother. I had some proof of what she had done in the past, but unfortunately hadn’t documented all of it. Two weeks after my father’s death, I found out just how much crazy she could bring.