I ran my fingers through the inch of hair that had grown back and looked through the glass wall at the team celebrating outside.
The night Eleanor shaved my head, she believed she was removing the part of me that made me proud.
She did not understand that my strength had never lived in my hair.
Daniel believed my paycheck was proof that I belonged to him.
Eleanor believed my patience was proof that I could be controlled.
Both of them mistook everything I gave freely for something they had the right to take.
They learned the difference only after I stopped giving.
I did not lose my dignity in that bedroom.
I found the exact moment I was no longer willing to trade it for peace.
