Vanessa collapsed into a chair.

Kylie stared at the floor.

Brianna looked ready to cry.

Outside, the limo waiting to take them to prom slowly drove away.

“I was mistreated,” I repeated softly.

I felt frozen.

I looked down at my dress — every stitch sewn by my own hands — and heard Dad’s voice again:

End of story — Part 3 of 3