THIRTY SIX

BELLA

“Where are the clothes?” I asked, skimming through the clothes on the aisle and finding outfits far worse than I was currently putting on.

This was the third aisle I was on and the second store we were checking out and it was the same thing. Just different styles and colors.

“They’re on the racks.” She said, still wearing the same look she’s been wearing since we left the house.

“These are basically lingerie and barely qualify to be called outfits.” I pointed out, holding a sheer body-fitting dress I pulled off the rack.

She gave me a once-over as if to say ‘You’re currently wearing one of those.’ Before proceeding to act confused. “Oh, my mistake, I thought a place like this would be better suited for you.”

This bitch.

She’s had a permanent scowl sewn to her face from the moment we left the house and has not failed to find new ways to call me a slut.

A positive side effect of being raised the way I’d been raised was an unshakable confidence. And while I couldn’t care less abo