GIANNA
I woke the next day with a start. It had taken the whole night for the reality of what Victoria had done to set in, and as is usual after one of our encounters, I’m left feeling like I’m suffering from PTSD. The therapist I’d been allowed to see before Becky put a stop to it when I was ten had been getting close to that diagnosis, I’m sure.
Though at the time when I overheard her talking to dad, I had no idea what that was and how exactly I’d caught it, it was years later that I figured it out and also understood why Becky had freaked and talked dad into ending my sessions. One more year. That’s the secret mantra I’ve been repeating to myself since my seventeenth birthday. Grandma Eloise had promised that it would all end as soon as I reached that magical age of eighteen. In the meantime, I just had to put up with the sisters grim.
