Content Warning: Abuse

Brittany's POV

The hours drag as I shuffle through the kitchen, cleaning supplies in hand. The smell of food used to bring comfort, but now it only mocks me. Dinner has come and gone, as always, without me. When I find the discarded leftovers in the garbage while taking out the trash, I have to bite back tears. The frustration stings more than the emptiness in my stomach.

At this pace, I might actually waste away. Maybe that’s ...