ADIRA
He pushed me.
Again.
It’s not the force of the fall that knocks the breath out of me. It’s the humiliation. The searing, blinding burn of being discarded like I’m nothing. My elbow throbs where I hit the floor, the sharp edge of the dresser cutting through skin I was too proud to protect.
I blink at the ceiling, stunned. Not from impact. From rage.
He pushed me. Again.
Like I’m some nuisance. Some obstacle in the way of what he really wants.
I force myself upright, teeth clenched. My knees wobble beneath me, legs trembling, not from weakness, but from the storm boiling under my skin. I touch my side and flinch. Wet. Warm. Blood.
He doesn’t even know he hurt me.
And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
I stagger to my feet, using the edge of the bed to balance. My
