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The stepfather's gaze has recently become increasingly spine-chilling, like the sticky tentacles of an octopus clinging to me. Stan Wallace appeared like a hero, saving my life and giving me a sense of security, as if I had grabbed onto a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea. I relied on Stan Wallace, taking advantage of his sense of justice and kindness, hiding under his not-so-robust wings time and time again, barely surviving.