HAILEY
The reminder on my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up the dark room: Appointment: Dr. Christian – 10:00 AM. I stared at it with a heavy chest. Over the last week, I had tried so hard to be a good daughter. My mom—every time she talked about their wedding, I felt like I was choking on a secret. Most times, if not every time, I tried to hint that he wasn't a good man. I told her he seemed cold, that maybe she was rushing into things.
But how could I tell her the truth? How could I say, "Mom, don't marry him because he bent me over your kitchen counter and made me scream for him"? How could I say, "Mom, don't marry him; he f****d me in the back of the house so hard that I couldn't walk the next day"?
He was a bad person to my mom. She doesn't deserve someone like him
