I waited for moments to pass, for the confusion to subside, for the adults around me to say, Everything is okay. No one ever did. Words were weapons, just another form of violence that I hid from. I hid myself deep so that on the surface, people would see quiet and good girl. I thought I could control their understanding of me, keep my inner torment a secret—it seemed like another sin to be so angry—but I did not realize how much my sense of self was controlled by all that hiding.
