Nelly

I pulled my old, beat-up car into the long driveway of my sister’s new house and killed the engine. The place was massive, all glass and white stone, sitting proudly on a perfectly trimmed lawn.

Everything about it screamed perfection, just like Claire herself, the golden girl. The one who always got it right. The one who could never do no wrong.

I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. My hands were still shaking slightly from the long drive. Rehab had been hell.

Three months locked away, with therapists drilling into my head that my nymphomania was a disease I had to control.

They took my...