Victoria Bella Volkov:

I stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it and pulling the blanket over me. I curled into a ball, gripping the fabric tightly as if it could shield me from her voice, her face, the memories that wouldn’t leave me alone.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, but I barely noticed. My chest ached, and my throat burned as I sobbed into the pillow, muffling the sound.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted her to stop. But Marianne’s voice only grew louder in my ...