Skylar

A sob catches in my throat, and I swallow it down with difficulty. I mustn't show weakness, not here, not in front of them. But the effort is too much; my knees buckle slightly, and I force them straight again, standing tall amid the storm of disdain.

Their rejection is a tangible weight, pressing down on my shoulders with the force of judgement passed. And yet, beneath the hurt, a spark of defiance begins to flicker. 'They do not define you,' a voice within whispers, ...