The silence of the night was deceptive.
Outside, the city slumbered beneath the dim glow of streetlights, but inside Elena’s mind, chaos stirred like a hurricane. Her dreams had become battlegrounds—echoes of a life she tried to bury clawed their way back to the surface.
She tossed under her sheets, the cotton damp with sweat. Her legs tangled in the blanket, her fists clenched at her sides. A soft whimper escaped her lips. Then another. Her brows furrowed in pain.
She was back there.
Back in that suffocating apartment with its nicotine-stained curtains and hollow promises. The wallpaper peeled like old wounds. The air reeked of spilled liquor, sweat, and betrayal.
“Rico…” she murmured, her voice childlike in the dream.
The slap hit like a gunshot.
She flinched violently in her slee
