“Queena, get away from her!” cried Rachel Young, Queena''s best friend. “What if it''s contagious? Her skin is all bumpy and disgusting, like a toad''s!"


    George strode over, his face contorting in disgust at the sight of Yvonne''s scars. "Who told you to wear that?" he barked. "Go change right now! You''re an embarrassment."


    Teresa and Jeffrey both stared at the marks on Yvonne''s body, their expressions a mixture of shock and something unreadable.


    As a doctor, Jeffrey immediately recognized the scars for what they were-the horrifying tapestry of whip marks, cuts, and burns.


    "Your... your arms... How did you get these?" he asked, his voice trembling. Yvonne''s gaze was fixed on Queena as she answered, her voice eerily calm. "These? They''re all gifts from my sister''s biological mother. When I was five, she beat me with an iron rod because she didn''t like my cooking. Another time, she starved me for two days. I was so dizzy I stole half a piece of bread, so she cut me with a knife and told me to eat my fill. Oh, and this one."


    She pointed to a deep, circr scar on her arm. "I got this for being first in my ss on an exam. She was so furious she pressed a lit cigarette into my arm. She told me a worthless piece of trash like me belonged in the gutter and had no right to get the top score."


    "That monster! How could they do that to you?" Teresa broke down, sobbing uncontrobly.


    Jeffrey, his eyes filled with pity, took off his suit jacket and draped it over Yvonne''s shoulders.


    But Yvonne ignored them, her voice continuing with chilling detachment.


    "Later, a kind police officer helped me press charges against my foster parents for abuse. But Dad said that since they raised me, I owed them, even if it was a debt of misery. He told me I had to drop thewsuit so it wouldn''t tarnish my sister''s reputation. He said if I didn''t, he would disown me and throw me out."


    A flicker of unease crossed George''s face.


    Teresa, ovee, rushed forward and pulled Yvonne into a tight embrace. "Yvonne, I''m so sorry," she wept. "It''s all my fault. Mommy failed to protect you."


    Teresa''s embrace was soft, warm, and fragrant.


    A residual memory stirred within Yvonne''s body. When she first came to the Spencer family, her mother had held her just like this.


    But every time she and Queena shed, every time Queena framed her, Teresa had always, without hesitation, sided with Queena.


    Seeing her mother and brother flocking to that country bumpkin, Queena felt a surge of panic.


    Her eyes darted around for a moment, and then tears began to stream down her face.


    el.r


    "Yvonne, I''m so sorry, I''m so, so sorry. It''s all my fault. Hit me, please, hit me as hard as you can. Let me atone for their sins," Queena suddenly cried, dropping to her knees before Yvonne. She sobbed so pitifully it was as if she were the ane who had suffered all the injustice.


    "Queena, what are you doing? Get up!" George rushed over, his heart aching at the


    sight of his daughter on the floor.


    "It''s not your fault, Queena. You were


    just a baby, you didn''t know


    anything." Jeffrey''s attention had


    already shifted from Yvonne as he


    reached down to help Queena up.


    Teresa stiffened, her expression torn, but she resisted the urge to go to Queena.


    "No, it''s all my fault! I stole Yvonne''s


    life and made her suffer so much


    She has every right to hate, me frame me, to push me down the stairs! I''m a sinner, I..."


    Before she could finish her sentence, Queena''s body went limp, her eyes fluttered


    shut, and she copsed in a faint.