I stand in the corner of the hospital room, feeling the weight of the tension pressing on my chest. My head throbs under the bandages, and every part of my body aches from the events that landed me here. But what hurts more than any bruise or cut is the look on my father’s face as he stares at me with disgust.

“You’re nothing,” he spits, his voice dripping with venom as he glares at me from his bed. "Worthless. Letting Miranda get the upper hand. A pathetic little girl who ...