I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body, my damp hair falling in tangles. The scent of lavender fills the air as I make my way to the kitchen, barefoot on the cool tiles. My stepmother Selina is already there, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She turns and looks at me, her eyes piercing through my towel like a laser. I have an issue, I say, finally meeting her gaze.
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