Nina

Every breath felt like fire in my chest. I lay curled on the cold wooden floor of my room, each inhale a reminder of last night’s torture.

The morning light filtering through the window seemed to mock me with its cheerfulness, while my body screamed with pain that refused to subside. My fingers traced the bruises blooming across my ribs – purple and blue landscapes of my humiliation.

They’d left me here to suffer, probably hoping I’d break. The tears that leaked from my eyes ...