Get used to it. Darla Ann Gladwell, orwhatever my real fathers last name was. He didn't care about me enough tostick around though, he was just a sper... donor, wasn't he?" Crossing myarms in front of my chest I shrank back into the corner behind Aunt Bev.My mother sat crying hard in her seat, I could hear her sobs of grief.The girl Danielle glared daggers at me as she inched forward to hold mymother's hand. We were almost home. The minute the car stopped she wasout the door running for the. She would stand in front of the mirror and give herself twenty or twenty-five smacks with her wooden paddle.“So you do remember,” he said jovially. “How many smacks do you think your mother should give you?”Olivia’s eyes went wide open. Her mother had caught her masturbating once when she was a senior in high school and demanded that she get over her lap for a spanking. “I’m eighteen years old,” she yelled back at her mother. “I don’t have to listen to you.”“You just set the number of times I’m. More

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