My dad slapped me on his birthday. “what kind of w…

controlled everything. My hair, shoulder length with bangs, cut every six weeks at home by Patricia. Megan liked it this way, she’d say, scissors clicking. My clothes, purple and pink, sizes too small, from stores that didn’t exist anymore. When I said they didn’t fit, Gerald would look at me with cold eyes, then stop eating so much. I developed a continue reading …