She walked forward until she was standing over me. “You’re not a little girl anymore. It’s time to grow up and stop playing pretend. You’ll wear what I choose, smile for pictures, and stop acting like this house belongs to a dead woman.”
The words stung like slaps.
She turned on her heel and left, her shoes clicking down the hallway like gunshots.
I was still on the floor crying when I heard my door squeak open.
“Megan? Sweetheart? No one was answering the door, so I let myself in.”
It was my grandma, my mom’s mom. She’d come early to see me off.
She rushed upstairs when I didn’t answer and found me crumpled on the floor.
“Oh no,” she breathed when she saw the dress.
I tried to speak, but all I could do was sob.
“She destroyed it, Grandma. She actually destroyed it.”
Grandma knelt beside me and took the dress in her hands. She examined the tear, then looked me in the eye with a fire I hadn’t seen in years.
