She hates immigrants, children, and from what I can tell, my sisters and me.
Being a stepmom is isolating, but it's even more devastatingly lonely to love a child you'll never see again.
When she said she'd forgotten to tell me about a hospice visit, I tried to believe her. But these slips of memory continued, and my doubts kept resurfacing.
I never imagined that I’d have two poorly-behaved stepchildren sucking the joy out of life and that the world would consider me a huge bitch for not loving them.