Battle Cries and Rose Petal Lies
<p>The news used to erupt at every mention of sexual assault. Now? It’s background noise, a dull ache in a world choked with violence against women. I stand in that wreckage, a twice-broken survivor in a country where rape is a national anthem.</p>
<p>They ask why I’m single, these clueless fools who can’t see the barbed wire fences I’ve built around my heart. My past is a warzone, a mosaic of escapes and near misses, of fear carved into my bones. But I’m older now, scarred and sharp-tongued. My bite is a viper’s, and I won’t be silenced by their “don’t be a victim” bullshit. I am a victim, yes, and I own the storm of my healing, every ugly, beautiful step. This is not my burden to bear alone, and I refuse to apologize for my rage, my tears, and my messy path back to myself.</p>
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