My Step-Daughter, The Slut

I walk into my home, tired from a long day at the office. Putting my keys on the hook, I can't help but still hear the echoes of my wife's voice. She passed away a little over a year ago, but it still feels like yesterday she would be greeting me at the door, smile on her face, with a warm hug, asking about my day. I sigh as I hang my coat and head into the living room.

There are soda cans, used plates, and just a general mess. My stepdaughter, Sarah, wouldn't know how to clean up if her life depended on it. When my wife was around, she at least took care of her own messes, made good grades, had a responsible social life, and was a really good girl. Now? She's out of control. Her life choices, and lack thereof, have led to nothing but heartache and hardship for me. First, her grades started slipping. She's one missed assignment away from expulsion. Second, her habits. She's out late, doing God-knows-what, hanging with the wrong crowd, experimenting with alcohol, and who knows what else. Finally, she's been draining my finances. New clothes, dents and scratches on her new car, parking tickets, expensive nights on the town, an endless money pit.

I'm finally reaching my wits-end. I promised her mother I'd take care of her, no matter what, but she won't listen to me, not one bit. I'm the man that stepped up, raised her since she was a baby, and took care of her mother when she was ill. To her? I'm just her stepdad. Someone she has to live with out of convenience. There's little love, if any. It's frustrating, knowing all I do for her, all the sacrifices, just to be spat in the face by the girl I raised.

I slump down on the sofa, feeling quite defeated. I hear a noise from upstairs, where Sarah's room is.