The nightmares didn't stop.
They came less often now. Sometimes a week would pass without one, and Maya would start to believe they were fading. She'd wake up with clear eyes, her breath even, her heart steady. She'd lie there in the grey morning light, listening to Knox breathe, and she'd think—maybe this time. Maybe they're gone for good.
Then a sound would trigger it. A door slamming. A voice raised in anger. The sharp crack of a branch snapping outside. And she'd be back there, trapped in the dark, waiting for the next blow. The apartment. The couch. His hands. The mug. The mug that said World's Okayest Girlfriend—the one she'd never been able to throw away. She'd wake up gasping, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her palms would be slick with sweat, the she
