I was born with a rebellious streak. The more someone tells me not to do something, the more I insist on doing it.
When my older sister demanded I give up my spot in the dance competition and shoved me down the stairs, I carved up her face.
When my younger brother framed me for stealing money, and my parents slapped me across the face in the middle of the street without even asking what happened, I burned both their wallets.
When my parents refused to let me study out of province, I moved thousands of miles away just to spite them.
Later, my sister brought home a handsome, wealthy brother-in-law.
She warned me not to act like a slut in front of him.
That very night, I put on a pair of black Balenciaga stockings and red-bottom heels, then rubbed my leg against my brother-in-law’s under the table.
