Storms 01 - Family Storms

March’s desperate search for someone new to love after she had lost her younger daughter Alena to acute Leukemia. From what I could see, because she and her husband, Donald, had favored Alena so much, their older daughter Kiera’s resentment and jealousy fueled her rebellious and practically suicidal behavior, whether it took the shape of drugs, sex and alcohol, or simply driving fast and recklessly.
    Partly out of a sense of guilt and partly out of a desire to have me take Alena’s place in her heart, Jordan March surprised me with an idea one day at the hospital. She offered to take me into her home and give me all the things a wealthy family could give me. I of course hesitated. How could I go and live beside Kiera March, the girl whose wild and thoughtless behavior was responsible for my mother’s death? Wouldn’t that be the gravest insult against my own mother? Not that I cared about them then, but what would other people think of me?
    My private-duty nurse, Jackie Knee, a nurse Jordan March personally arranged and paid for, told me to accept Jordan March’s offer and, in fact, take everything I could from the wealthy Marches. Maybe that was my initial reason for entering their home and assuming many of Alena’s things, besides living in her bedroom suite. Gradually, though, I found myself feeling sorry for Mr. and Mrs. March, and eventually, even feeling sorry for Kiera.
    Did I forgive her or did I always harbor hate and a desire for vengeance deep down inside me? It took me a very long time to find that answer. Goodness knows that I had manymore reasons to hate Kiera after I was brought to her home. Naturally, she resented my presence. In the beginning, even her father resented me. I understood why. After all, I was a constant reminder to him about what a terrible thing Kiera had done, and a parent, especially one as proud and egotistical as Donald March, couldn’t help but hate feeling responsible, and hate everyone and everything that made him do so.
    Gradually, as Jordan March tried harder and harder to turn me into her lost daughter Alena, Kiera had another reason to despise me. Once again, it seemed as though she was becoming second best, at least as far as her mother was concerned, and I wasn’t even blood related! I should have known she wouldn’t stand by and let this happen to her again, that she would do anything and everything she could to drive me from her home.
    Despite how poor her school grades were, Kiera was far from unintelligent. She was clever and conniving. Eventually she succeeded in having me believe she had not only accepted me in her life but wanted to be the big sister that she wasn’t able to be for Alena. Her regret seemed so sincere that I bought into it. I was flattered that she included me with her friends, all seniors. It helped me to feel important at a time when I was feeling very sorry for myself.
    Later she succeeded in getting one of her boyfriends to seduce me and then got me into serious trouble with her parents by making it seem as though it had been my entire fault. She convinced them that I had never really left the tough, gritty street life behind. As incredible as it was, she had them believing that I was corrupting her and her friends and not vice versa.
    But in the end, I thought that her conscience about the way she had treated and thought of her sister Alena and what she had done to me had driven her to be reckless again, and she nearly died in a drug overdose. All of the mean things she and her friends had done to me were revealed when her friends, overwhelmed by her near fatality, confessed to being part of Kiera’s schemes.
    Now imprisoned in a silence of her own making, she did seem to begin to change. However, I had suffered too much because of her to simply accept the nice things she said and the kind way she behaved toward me after all this. I didn’t come right out and say so. I just took longer to believe in anything.
    My mother used to say that a little skepticism is a blessing. “It’s like a safety valve,” she had told me. “It will keep you from falling too far too fast.” She was bitter by then. My father had not only left us without a word but had taken all our money and everything else we had of any value. Forced to accept whatever employment she could get, my mother had often been exploited. She had grown more and more depressed, let herself go physically and mentally and began to drink heavily. Eventually, we were evicted