A million thoughts swam around in my head as I stood, frozen on the steps of Manchester. I
desperately needed a snort of coke and my hand automatically reached for my crucifix. But my
stepfather got there first. He Yanked on the bottom and my vial of coke came undone. The white
powder scattered everywhere. My precious supply, gone. At this, the murmurings grew even louder. I hung my head. I just couldn't look at them. All those scornful faces looking at me with the utmost disgust.

And then there was silence. I looked up in surprise. And before me, innocent and sweet-looking
as the virgin she was so NOT, stood Annette Hardgrove. She fixed me with an unwavering gaze and
I had to fight the urge to lash out at her. I narrowed my eyes and looked her straight in the
face.

Stupid bitch. How I longed to slap that self- satisfied smile off her angelic face. I felt hate
surging within me. Such a strong surge of hate that I had never felt towards anyone before. She
screwed me, big time, and I swore to pay her back.

"I'm Kathryn Merteuil and nobody fucks with me" I repeated over and over to myself.

Looking at my nemesis through narrowed eyes, I vowed to take revenge.