Chloe tossed her blonde hair back, and laughed cruelly that sliced through the stunned silence.

She pointed directly at my ruined chest. “Look at her! It’s a monster from a horror film! Good god, Maya, put a bag over it! You look like a patchwork quilt of ruined meat!”

The obedient crowd, eager to remain in the golden child’s favor and avoid becoming her next target, erupted into a chorus of mocking laughter.

The sound bounced off the water, ricocheted off the towering glass windows of the mansion, and pounded in my ears. I looked desperately toward the patio doors. Richard was staring intently at his expensive leather shoes, his face drained of all color.

Eleanor was hiding her face behind the brim of a massive designer sun hat. Neither parent moved to intervene.

They were letting her do this. They were allowing her to tear me apart for entertainment.