Too Late for Regrets, Mom: I'm Already Dead

My mother hated me, her adopted daughter. She pulled some strings and sent me to a strict reform school designed to "correct my character."

She said my grandfather, Donald, had spoiled me into a selfish brat, and that I needed my morals beaten into shape.

On the night I finally escaped that hellhole, I called her. My voice was trembling, begging.

"Mom, please. I’m your real daughter. Chloe and Richard are trying to kill me. Please, just get me out of here."

Her voice on the other end was freezing cold.

"It seems you still haven't cured your habit of lying. If you want to die, go ahead."