Fiancé to Fiend, Sister to Slayer

e was a rickety tablet. I watched, hopeful, as my sister Chloe walk

g her life. Without a word of defense, her fiancé Mark, twisted with rage, slapped Chloe across the face, declared her "poison,"

at that farm, they said, left without medical help. When Mom tried to get answers, Mark's

ing grief, sparked a suppressed fury I'd carried for years. They called me dangerous, diagnosed me wit

nstitution, leaving chaos in my wake. The cool Oregon air hit my face, carrying the scent of impending ra