After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing

When I had a threatened miscarriage, I bled all over the seat of Grant Sheridan’s car.

He glanced at the stain with visible disgust and immediately pushed me out of the car.

“You couldn’t prepare for your period in advance? How unlucky,” he snapped.

Later that night, just after I arrived home, he casually tossed a pair of lace panties at me.

“Samantha stained these during her period. Go wash them.”

I opened my phone and saw a post from his childhood sweetheart on her social media.

[When my period starts, my silly brother gets even more anxious than I do.]