Step Grandma

Grandma, I'm supposed to call you, yet you are no more a grandma to me than my rapist is my lover. Oh, didn't know about that? That I was raped? But lets think, have you ever cared or shown me any indication of love or respect that made me feel comfortable enough as though I could trust you or even tell you of the horrors which I've seen, Satan's touch which I have felt, or the painful echoing screams I've uttered which you, much like the others pretended not to hear?

Grandma, I have the luxury to be able to call you, as though we have some sort of bond between us. We do not share anything. Any blood relationship or emotional ties. As though you make me feel special, as though you bake me cookies and milk, as though you show you actually care.

Grandma who is yelling at me, who thinks I do everything to spite her. Grandma whose small beady black eyes and pursed lips say that she "doesn't trust me"

Grandma and Grandma, two faces to her, the first one shows she cares, but the next rips away all those miscalculations and turns into a monster.