I stood in the middle of the backyard behind the clinic, the soft country breeze caressing my face. The fields around me seemed to stretch on forever, blanketed in a soft golden glow of the setting sun. Peaceful. Quiet. On the surface.I knew better than to trust that peace. This was never home; this was exile. It always did that, washed over me like a wave, when I was by myself.The day my father passed away was the day my world stopped. I was his princess, his little Alice. He always said my mother left her strength behind in me when she passed away. He raised me to be strong, kind, and positive. I clung to those values because I thought they were enough to keep us together, to keep us safe. But when his car slid off the icy road, and his heart stopped beating, it all unraveled. My stepmother, Victoria, wore black to his funeral, but there was no hint of grief in her eyes. While I cried for the last of my kin, she stood beside me, gazing down at me as though I were some pest
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