I am 17. My brother, Noah, is 15.
Our mom died when I was 12. Dad remarried Carla two years later. Then Dad died last year from a heart attack, and the whole house changed overnight.
Prom came up a month ago.
She took over the bills, the accounts, the mail, everything. Mom had left money for Noah and me. Dad always said it was for “important things.” School. College. Big milestones.
Apparently, Carla decided her definition of “important” was different.
Prom came up a month ago.
She was in the kitchen scrolling on her phone when I said, “Prom is in three weeks. I need a dress.”