Broken. For one thousand and ninety-five days I’ve done everything to keep myself from breaking. Shut off my mind off during the beatings. Escaped the depths of the darkness in the night. Locked down my body during the rapes. Imagined a new life when I was tortured. Gritted my teeth through the violations. Tried every tactic I needed to survive. Closing myself away. Envisioning a better life. Plotting my revenge. None of the strategies worked long term. I hate Enzo for what he did to me, but my need to extract revenge was never enough to keep me alive. I would try blocking my reality out by pretending my stomach didn’t constantly ache, and my body wasn’t bruised, my bones shattered. That would keep me alive for a few weeks. But then came the loneliness. Being