The pain cut through me like fire, sharper than anything I had ever felt. Not just the bullet—it was everything. Betrayal. Rage. Loss. And yet, even in that moment, my chest heaved with a scream I couldn’t hold back.

“Why me? Why me, always me, why do I always have to be shot?” I wailed, the words tearing themselves from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. “Why can’t he—why can’t my father just see me happy?! Why does it always have to be me?”

“My own father…” I choked, ...