Trigger Warning: Rape mention. Child sex abuse mention.
V.C Andrews is my ultimate guilty pleasure read (currently). I mean it's trashy tragic over-dramatic gothic-influenced horror, that I eat up with a spoon. #NoRegrets #SorryNotSorry
The author used foreshadowing with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I saw the rape of her stepdad coming from a mile away. It was still pretty squicky, not gonna lie.
Also that doll. That freaky doll that Leigh had to pose in the nude (at 12 years old!) for her step dad to paint and later sculpt, which served as a catalyst for the rape itself. That whole plot line made my skin crawl. The whole grooming and sexual molestation was skeevy. I'm glad that the ghostwriter portrayed it as it really was, as wrong and exploitative.
I felt really bad for Leigh, because I understood how she felt, the wanting to tell people, and when you do, sometimes people call you a liar and/or slut-- sometimes the other parent. It really sucks, but it's real. I admire the bravery of survivors who reach out are believed, and have the abuser(s) get prosecuted. Let's not forget about the bravery of those who have their voice silenced either because of dissociation/repressing or threats by the abuser, and even those who make excuses and apologize the rapist. We are still brave. I didn't realize until now how much this plot-line has really affected me.
So this book took me on a whirlwind of emotions from lolz to sadz.