He hit me every day over the tiniest things. burnt toast, a late reply, a wrong look, You made me do this, he did hiss, One night, panic swallowed me whole and I collapsed, At the hospital, he said to them, She slipped in the shower

That stillness was always the worst part.

“Do you know how stupid you are?” he asked calmly.

My chest tightened instantly. My heart began to race—fast, shallow. I felt the room tilt, my hands trembling as if they weren’t mine. I told myself I just needed air, that I could get to the door, that I could breathe.

I didn’t make it.

Panic swallowed me whole. My legs gave out, and the world narrowed to noise and darkness.

When I came back to myself, I was in the passenger seat of our car. Jason was driving far too fast, his hands locked tightly around the steering wheel.

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