My Evil Stepmother, The Comedic Terror

Previously

…I slammed the diary shut, the sound echoing in the hushed room. The snakeskin cover felt slick and cold beneath my trembling fingers. The mystery of Seraphina’s true nature had been partially unveiled, but it had only deepened the terror. She wasn’t just a capricious tormentor; she was a playwright, a director, and I was her unwilling star. And now, armed with her script, I had to find a way to improvise, to rewrite my own ending, before the curtain fell on my own sanity. The performance was about to begin, and for the first time, I knew the plot.