But God didn't hear my plea.

Christina's bullying only escalated. One day after school, she and her friends cornered me in the gym equipment room.

She held up a brand-new curling iron, a cruel smile on her face.

"Emily, I bought a new toy. Come over here. Let's see how well it works."

A dirty sock was shoved into my mouth as she raised her hand, pressing the scorching curling iron against my arm, branding me with one hideous mark after another.

Those marks, like the devil's signature, stayed with me for years.

I was tortured to the point of passing out. Christina, having lost interest, finally pulled away, tossing...