Chapter 1

My mother was a master at victim-blaming.

When I was little, a kid snatched my toy and shoved me to the ground, scraping my hands raw. I ran home in tears, looking for comfort.

She just sneered. "Why would they only steal from you? You’re just too selfish. You never learned to share."

In high school, the bullies beat me black and blue. When I dragged myself home covered in bruises, she slapped me across the face.

"Why are they only picking on you and no one else? Ever think that maybe you’re the problem?"

Later, she brought my main tormentor right into our home.

"There was more to that story back then. Stop holding a grudge. Brooke is going to live with us from now on."

From that day forward, I learned to shut my mouth.

Until the night after graduation, when two thugs dragged me into an abandoned construction site and raped me.

I crawled home, sobbing hysterically. But my mother only looked at me with pure disgust.

"Are you done with the drama? You’ve loved playing the victim your whole life. Who are you trying to frame this time?"

She didn't know that was the very last time I would ever ask her for help.

I stood by the doorway, my head hung low, completely silent.

"What are you standing there for? Who are you going to blame this time? I’m exhausted just watching your little show."

Brooke handed a glass of warm water to my mother.

"Eleanor, please don't be mad. Maybe Chloe isn't lying this time."

My mother scoffed. "A perfectly healthy girl, yet every single day someone is supposedly bullying her! All she knows is whining and blaming everyone else, never once looking in the mirror."

"Ignore her, Brooke. You’re the sensible one. If only she had half your manners."

My voice shook violently as I forced out the words. "Mom, please... someone really hurt me..."

My mother cut me off with a cold laugh.

"Why is there always drama with you? You snuck out in the middle of the night! Even if someone did touch you, you brought it on yourself."

"Look at Brooke. Look how well-behaved she is. Why can’t you be more like her?"

I stared at Brooke sitting beside my mother, my fists clenched tight.

Going out tonight hadn't been my idea. Brooke had forced me to go pick up a package from school for her.

She threatened that if I didn't go, she would post my nude photos all over the internet.

Brooke narrowed her eyes at me, a sweet, venomous smile spreading across her lips. Cold sweat broke out down my spine.

I didn't dare say a single word.

Back during our freshman year of high school, Brooke and her gang cornered me in a dead-end alley. They stomped on my face, grinding their dirty sneakers into my cheeks.

I couldn't hold back a scream, but that only excited them more.

They tore off my shirt, kicked my stomach, and pinched the skin on my waist until it bruised black and blue.

"You look like a little slut who loves seducing guys. Acting so pure and innocent, hitting on the football captain, shamelessly talking to him after class."

"You think you’re pretty, you worthless trash? Don't you know Brooke has a crush on him?"

I shook my head frantically, weeping and begging, saying I hadn't done anything.

I had only asked him a few math questions. That was all.

Brooke spat in my face. "If I ever catch you talking to him again, you're dead."

Eventually, they let me go.

When I stumbled back home in tatters, I thought my mother would care.

Instead, she welcomed me with a hard slap to the face.