Ungrateful Bitch (Part 3)

I walked into the woman’s house a mess of blonde curls, tears and streaked mascara. I was shaking from panic and bowed by the humiliation of a total stranger seeing me like this; so emotional and exposed. My father followed, already demanding her attention with his diatribe about me, “Can I use your phone to let the police know where we are?”…

“Can I use your phone to let the police know where we are?”