Riley's POV"Mommy, I'm scared."Lily's small hand gripped mine as we stood in front of the New Haven Women's Shelter. The building was better than I'd expected—clean brick facade, well-maintained entrance, security cameras that suggested safety rather than surveillance.But it was still a shelter. Still an admission of complete failure. "It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, though my voice shook. "We're just going to stay here for a little while.""Until we get our nice room back?"The question broke something inside me. "Maybe. We'll see."The intake coordinator was a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and calloused hands. She handed me a clipboard thick with forms. "Take your time," she said gently. "There's no rush."Name: Riley Plia Age: 24 Reason for seeking shelter: Homeless, domestic situationI stared at the last line. Was that what this was? A domestic situation? Brett had never hit me, never physically harmed me. But he'd owned me, controlled me, discarded me."Mommy
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