Since losing my parents six years ago, I had endured countless beatings and insults.
But this time, I refused to submit. In a moment of desperation, I grabbed a glass from the side table and smashed it against his forehead, drawing blood.
This act of defiance only resulted in further punishment.
My stepmother, seeing my stubbornness, kicked me to the ground and shouted for me to apologize to her precious son.
They wanted me to grovel for their forgiveness after they had taken over my home following my parents' tragic accident.
They bullied me mercilessly and now expected me to submit to Ethan, their thug of a son.
Did they think I was a soft target? Not a chance!
"Emma," my stepfather John barked, "the Hunter family doesn't keep freeloaders. You just turned eighteen; get out there and start earning money!"
He tossed a tattered backpack filled with a few of my old clothes out the door.
With a menacing glare, he yanked me by the collar and threw me outside.
A couple of slaps sent me sprawling on the ground, followed by several kicks until he finally shut the door behind him.
In the bitter cold, I stood there in thin clothing with a suitcase in hand; frostbite was already worsening on my hands.