The next day, I woke with a throbbing headache and a body that didn’t feel like mine.

Every muscle ached, and every breath cost something. I lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, relearning the simple fact that I was still here. Still alive. After last night, I hadn’t been entirely sure I would be.

I tried to roll onto my side.

I let out a sharp, involuntary cry before I could stop it. Pain surged through me, raw and intimate, marking my body like a map of everything that had happened. The marks were visible, impossible to hide or ignore.

I lay back and stared at the...