Gianna didn't scream when the man's hand closed on her left breast.
The sound died somewhere deep in her chest, crushed beneath shock and a sudden, overwhelming sense of wrongness that flooded her whole body at once.
It wasn't just pain. It wasn't even just fear. It was the instant, sickening awareness of being touched where she hadn't given permission—of being claimed like an object, handled without care, without regard.
Her skin felt like it no longer belonged to her.
Something ugly crawled through her veins, as his grip tightened roughly. She felt dirty immediately, as though whatever he'd taken couldn't be washed away. As though the boundary she'd carried her whole life had been breached in one brutal motion.
Her breath fractured. The world tilted. Her vision blurred, not from darkness this time, but from tears she hadn't realized were spilling yet. They slid down her cheeks in silent streams, unstoppable, humiliating in their quietness.
