When I was seven, my mom disappeared — no note, no reason, just gone. My dad did his best, until he remarried. Twice. Leslie, the last one, came with casseroles, fake kindness, and her smug son, Stuart, who instantly became the star of the house.
At first, Leslie didn’t scream or scold. She erased. My clothes got downgraded, my phone stopped charging, my plate always had less. And if I complained? “Tom just wants attention,” she’d purr to my dad, twisting every truth.
When prom rolled around, I finally felt a glimpse of excitement. I’d asked Taylor, and she said yes — freckles, bright smile, and all. My dad even took us suit shopping. I chose a navy three-piece. For once, I wanted to feel like I belonged.
But prom day didn’t bring music or magic. I came home to find my suit — in shreds. Torn. Destroyed. Not stolen. Not missing. Ruined. And I knew exactly who did it…