My husband shoved me, shattering the bathroom mirror. His mother sneered, “Clean up this disgusting mess.” But as I fell, my husband roared, “What’s in your pocket?!” The red LED of my federal distress fob pulsed. Denied the third click, I threw myself onto the broken glass, and…

the glass was smooth, flawless, and unbroken. My face was whole.

And as I stared deeply into my own eyes, searching for the timid, terrified girl who used to flinch at loud noises and apologize for existing, I couldn’t find her anymore. She was gone.

In her place, I saw a formidable, unbreakable woman. The woman that Vance, Beatrice, and Arthur Sterling continue reading …