You have no idea why your mom hired her, especially after all she’s done to you, but you don’t have time to waste thinking about it. You start sprinting to your room. Fortunately, you convinced your dad to modify the drawers to that regular-sized people couldn’t get into them without you unlocking it from the inside, so Mary shouldn’t be able to get in. You hope.
You manage to get inside before Mary and your mom finish talking. You collapse on your sock bed, shaking, thinking of all the things Mary’s done to you. Like the time she “forgot” you in her purse, where you spent the day dodging lipstick and quarters. Or the time she made you tread water in a glass, almost drowning you in the process. And your mom wonders why you insist on bathing in the sink. And there was that time she made spaghetti for the family and “accidentally” dropped you onto Tulips plate. Mary swore up and down it was an accident, but you knew it wasn’t.
The last straw had been when she dropped you in front of the neightbor’s bulldog, Benji. It wasn’t that Benji was a vicious dog, but bulldogs are generally pretty drippy dogs, and Benji was no exception. You almost drowned in dog saliva before your mom rescued you, and finally (to your great relief) fired Mary. And now, despite all your efforts and everything you’ve been through p, Mary’s back. Yay.
“Steve? Can you come out? I’d like to talk,” Mary calls out. She sounds...
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