At 2 A.M., a Hidden

have no idea what women in my generation survived,” she was saying. “You girls think exhaustion is abuse. You think criticism is trauma. You think crying makes you special.”

Ava whispered, “Please let go.”

Noah cried in short, desperate bursts.

I pushed the door open.

My mother turned.

Her hand dropped from Ava’s hair so quickly it might have looked innocent continue reading …