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THREE MONTHS LATER
Cynthia sat across from her pregnant stepmother, a scowl on the woman's face. She was complaining about Charles' youngest daughter for the trillionth time since she had come to live with them. The teenager had learned to tune out Angela within the first week she had arrived.
"She doesn't need therapy, Charles! She's a hormonal teenage brat that just wants attention and money!"
"Angel! My daughter was sleeping with a thirty year old man. That isn't normal for a teen girl. There's clearly underlying trauma that needs to be addressed."
It was an age old debate that had been ongoing since the moment Charles' private plane had touched down in New York and Cynthia has been introduced to the new wife she didn't know her father had.
Her father had been insisting that his daughter go talk to a therapist but Angela always countered his idea with hurtful words and judgmental statements. In the end, she always won and the girl hadn't spoken to a professional in the three months she had lived in New York.
Cynthia excused herself from the dinner table without saying a word. Leaving her hardly touched dinner on the table.
"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Angela practically hissed. She couldn't wait to see the girl go but just had to say something about the girl leaving.
"To my room." The teenager deadpanned, her voice monotone.
"Don't fucking talk back to me. Your bitch of a mother may have taken attitude from you and your father may be spineless when it comes to disciplining you but I'm not them!"
Three months of unrelenting comments and retorts from Angela had built up and the dam finally gave way, causing an overflow of words to come spilling past Cindy's lips.
"Ya know what, Angela? You're right. You aren't my parents so I don't understand why you think just because you have Charles wrapped around your finger and fucked him means you can act like a parent to me. You've only known me for three months and have treated me like utter shit so even if you were my parent... you would be a horrible one. That just means whatever spawn of Satan get pushed out of your vagina is going to have a bitch of a mother. And just so you know Angela, I don't want my fathers money and I may be hormonal but it's part of growing up. You would know all about that wouldn't you? Seeing as how you haven't grown up yet practically bullying a girl half your age and all. I do have trauma because neither of my parents were there to coddle me like yours were and instead gave me freedom and money in their place. So yea, I do think I need to see a fucking therapist but maybe it's better if you see one instead of me."
