**Chapter 1: Born to Raise Hell**
When you finally realize that none of it was your fault, that everything crumbled around you without warning or escape, it's a moment of reckoning. That's how I felt the day my mom disappeared after my dad's death. It wasn't a gentle fading, either. She fled—left me behind with no explanation, no warning. And me? I got tossed around like a rag doll until I landed in Aunt Sally's house. You'd think family would step up, but no. I wasn't there for love or care. I was there because I could be useful.
I was born to raise hell, and trust me, I did. Seventeen years old, no boyfriend, no social life—capital N-O. I'm in my senior year of high school, juggling classes with chores, cooking, and two jobs just to pay my way through. My life wasn't glamorous, but I survived, even if Aunt Sally only accepted me under her roof to turn me into her personal slave. Mom screwed her over with some money laundering scheme before she vanished, leaving me to pay the price.
Sharona, my perfect cheerleader cousin, loved to remind me I was trash. A stain on her pristine reputation. She was everything I wasn't—popular, flawless, and dripping with that queen-bee confidence. And me? I built walls so high, not even the bravest dared to climb. I was an introvert by choice, not by fear. I preferred it that way. The less people knew, the less they could hurt me.
"*Kathleen!*" Aunt Sally's screech echoed through the house, pulling me out of my thoughts as I maneuvered through a pile of dirty laundry waiting to be handwashed.
"You daughter of a bitch!" she spat venomously, her face twisted in rage.
Holy crap. Here we go again.
"You forgot to make lunch! Who the hell do you think you are to forget something as important as that?" Her eyes blazed, fury radiating from every pore.
I swallowed the instinct to snap back. "Right away, ma'am," I muttered, lowering my gaze to the worn-out carpet beneath my feet. My voice was quiet, but inside, the rage was boiling.
I was about to bolt to the kitchen when she stormed past me, heading upstairs, her heels hammering the floor with every step. That was my life—being her little servant, doing her bidding because my mom screwed her over. I didn't complain much anymore, because what was the point? This hell was my everyday reality.
The truth? Aunt Sally sold off every bit of my father's property, leaving only this decrepit house because fixing it would take more money than she wanted to spend. It was a rotting, lifeless shell of what it had once been, just like everything in my life.
But here's the thing: I wasn't broken, not yet. I wasn't going to crumble like the walls of this house. No, if I was going to go down, it was going to be in flames. If I was stuck in this miserable situation, I was going to fight back, even if it meant doing it in my own twisted way. This was my life, and I'd be damned if I didn't cause a little chaos along the way.
I forced my feet to move toward the kitchen, even though every fiber of my being wanted to turn around and leave. Aunt Sally's outbursts were a daily occurrence, and as much as I hated to admit it, I'd gotten used to them. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. She blamed me for everything my mom had done, and Sharona loved to pile on.
"Let's see," I muttered to myself, rummaging through the fridge. There wasn't much—some stale bread, a few eggs, a block of cheese that had seen better days. Sally had gone on one of her random shopping sprees again, blowing cash on herself while the essentials ran dry. Typical. I threw together some makeshift sandwiches, my hands moving automatically through the motions.
As I worked, my mind wandered. I wasn't like other girls at school. I didn't have time for parties or football games. I didn't care about makeup tutorials or Instagram followers. I was just trying to survive. Balancing two jobs at the cafes, trying to keep my grades up, and doing every damn thing in this house while Sharona strutted around like a princess.
"*Kathleen!*" That shrill voice again. Sharona this time.
I rolled my eyes. Couldn't they give me a damn break?
I heard her coming down the stairs, her cheerleading outfit perfectly pressed, her hair in flawless waves. She always made sure she looked the part, even at home. "Why aren't you done with the laundry yet? I told you I needed my uniform for practice!"
"I'll get to it," I said flatly, not bothering to look at her.
She glared, arms folded across her chest. "Get to it now, or I'm telling Aunt Sally. You know how she gets when you slack off."
I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. It would've been so easy to throw the sandwich at her smug face, but I held back. "Fine," I ground out through clenched teeth.
Sharona smirked, satisfied with her power trip. "Good girl," she cooed mockingly before prancing off.
I stood there for a moment, letting the anger simmer just below the surface. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to serve these people who treated me like trash. But every time I thought about walking out, I remembered—I had nowhere else to go. My mom had made sure of that.
I finished up in the kitchen and moved to the laundry room. The pile of clothes stared back at me, a mountain that never seemed to shrink. As I started the mundane task of handwashing each piece, my mind drifted back to before. Back to when my dad was alive. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Dad had been my world. He wasn't perfect—hell, none of us were—but he made sure I felt loved. I still remembered the nights we'd sit on the porch, him telling me stories about his wild youth while we watched the stars. He had this way of making everything feel like an adventure, even the smallest things. But then he got sick. And things changed. When he died, it was like the light in my life just... went out. And Mom? She couldn't handle it. She ran, leaving me behind to pick up the pieces.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I angrily wiped it away. No time for that. I had things to do, work to finish.
As I hung the last of the laundry on the line outside, I heard a car pull up in the driveway. My heart sank. Aunt Sally's voice echoed through the air as she chatted with a neighbor, her fake charm on full display. She loved putting on a show for others, pretending to be this generous guardian who had taken in her poor, abandoned niece. But the second those doors closed, she turned into a monster.
I hurried back inside, not wanting to get caught loitering. I made my way to my room—if you could even call it that. It was more of a storage closet with a bed crammed in it. No posters, no decorations, just bare walls and a stack of textbooks on the floor. I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But I had to keep going. I had to finish school, get out of this place, and make a life for myself. That's what Dad would've wanted. He'd always told me I had a fire inside, something special. I didn't feel special now. I felt like a prisoner in my own life. But I couldn't let them break me. Not Sally. Not Sharona. Not anyone.
I grabbed my notebook from the nightstand, flipping through the pages where I'd scribbled down ideas and goals for the future. College wasn't really an option right now, not with how tight money was, but there had to be something—some way to break free from this hell.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Kathleen, dinner!" Aunt Sally's voice rang out, fake sweetness dripping from every word.
I closed the notebook, shoving it back under the bed. I'd get out of here one day. But for now, I had to survive. One day at a time.