Siana sat alone on the cold bench, her body shivering under the weight of the rain that had soaked her completely. Her hair clung to her face, wet and messy, drops of water slipping down her cheeks, mixing with the tears that hadn’t stopped falling. Her eyes were swollen, puffy and red, and her nose was just as flushed from all the crying she had done. She looked completely broken, like a delicate flower crushed under a storm she never saw coming. Her shoulders were hunched forward, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold her soul together. The voices still echoed in her head—those cruel, disgusting mumbles from the crowd. Strangers calling her names she never imagined would be thrown at her. Words that cut deeper than knives. Words that made her feel dirty, ruined… used. A disposable whore. Her heart ached like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces and stomped on. Her ankle throbbed from running, a faint stream of blood trickling from the small cut—but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Not when her dignity, her trust, her belief in what they shared was stripped from her in front of so many eyes. She felt hollow. Defeated. And utterly alone.