Elowen

I slid the single, flawlessly folded pair of expensive boutique underwear over my hips this morning, and the contrast was immediate.

After the absolute psychological warfare of yesterday—which had forced me into a humiliating, high-anxiety dash through the bright red aisles of the undies shop just to settle for a scratchy, suffocating multipack of cheap nylon panties—feeling the familiar, luxurious silk against my skin was a freaking massive relief.

I couldn't entirely understand the twisted, chaotic logic of my dearest stepbrother. One day he was completely stripping my top drawer down to the raw wood as some sort of unhinged retaliation for me taking his keys, and the next,...