Stop at your step father's house

You don't like the thought of doing this, but what choice do you have? You know what your step father is like, and he's been that way since you knew him. When your mom died, it only made him worse. But he's the man who got all the money, and you didn't, even though you were your mom's only child. She left everything to that bastard, including you. He's a child molester, and you are living proof of that fact. He molested you right from the start, right under your mom's nose. But he had her so wrapped around his little finger that she wouldn't even believe a word you told her.

"She'll never believe a word you say!" he used to taunt you as he **** you. "Get used to it. You're only good for two things: Fucking and having babies. My babies! Other than that, you're worthless!" It only got worse after your mom was killed in a traffic accident. He **** you constantly, filling your womb up with his vile seed every chance he got, willing you to become pregnant. After a while, he even attempted to make you take fertility ****. But you kept your head about you as you only pretended to take the **** he gave you, waiting for your chance to leave. "You're a worthless cunt!" he spat at you one night. "You must be sterile. You can't even get pregnant!" He tore your clothes off of you that night, and fucked you harder than he'd ever fucked you before.

A few days later he had invited another young piece of ass to move in with him. Surprisingly enough, she looked a lot like you, and was even your age. He made you watch them as they had sex together. Then he **** you to join them in threesomes. But he slowly lost interest in you when Calidonna became pregnant. Calidonna and Earl were soon married, and you were asked to leave, with nothing but your personal belongings and a few thousand dollars that had lasted you up until this point.

You hate the thought of crawling back to them now. You can only hope Earl will give you some more money to at least tide you over until you can find a real job somewhere. You sit there in the driveway, still in your idling car, wondering if you should really even bother with them. You look down at the ignition key, and thump your head on the steering wheel. How did your life ever come to this?