The Backlash Of My Scars
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Summary
The countdown is at seventy-two hours. In my eyes, these people have been dead to me for a long time—rotting from the inside out, stained beyond redemption.
It happened on April Fool’s Day. To coax a smile out of their precious "golden boy," my fiancé and my sister decided to turn me into a literal plaything.
Toby, the boy they brought home to replace me, laughed as he shredded my clothes. He took a tube of lipstick and scrawled the word “BITCH” across my forehead in jagged, crimson strokes.
