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Every time my mother says it's my fault I got raped, I'm a terrible mother that should just leave my son behind, or that I make everyone's lives worse over small shit (like leaving the bathroom door open)... I become a little more happy that she's dying alone and bald.

My mother has used hair to control her children for years. She's a hair stylist and hair is her pride and joy. I felt such... Euphoria... When she cried over losing her hair. My sibling came out as non-binary. I cut their hair for them. My sibling felt free, like shackles fell from their head.