The betrayal began with scissors. Metal against trust, a snip that sounded louder than any scream she couldn’t afford to make. When she woke to hair on the floor and numbers missing from every account, the room felt smaller than her own skin. They called it sacrifice, duty, destiny—anything but theft. She tasted chemicals on her tongue, wrists bruised from kindness that held too tight, and understood at last that she was not a daughter but an investment, her future mortgaged to a stranger’s ring. In that chemically quieted dark, something colder than fear began to arrange itself inside her, thought by thought, like a blade assembling its own edge, very, very qui… Continues…
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