My Father Washed Me Away
Language: en
Eight. Eight toilets in this house, and I was on my hands and knees in the last one, the sickly-sweet scent of bleach and raw sewage clinging to my uniform T-shirt. My phone buzzed on the floor, pushing a forum post to the top of my feed. "Second marriage to a wealthy man, how do I deal with a bratty stepdaughter?" The suggestions flew fast, but one comment, already flagged with 9,999 downvotes, snagged my eye. "Establish dominance. Go hard on your own kid—make an example of him. She'll fall in line fast." I instinctively tapped the downvote button to push the number past ten thousand. No…