Samantha's POVI give a resounding knock on my father's office door. Once. Twice."Come in." My father's booming voice calls out. I twist the knob of the door and push it open with just enough space for me to slip through.While our office might be similar in structure, the similarity ends there. The walls of mine are painted beige green, his are a hospital white color, making the room look stark. My walls are covered with nature-inspired art pieces and his are bare. My desk is filled with pictures, mostly of my dad and me or Eve and me while he has just one framed picture on his desk, a picture of me with my mouth and teeth stained with velvet chocolate.I remember that day vividly. I had been five, left unsupervised for a few minutes, and my dad had found me hiding in the cupboard, wraps of open chocolate all around me, and my face stuffed. He had simply laughed it off, but not before taking a dozen pictures of me, pictures he placed all over the house and in his office.That's the
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