MY UNDOING
The bouncer nodded once, and she resumed her work with a cold, machine-like precision.
Aliyah’s pleading shifted into something messy—regret, fear, and humiliation—none of which absolved her.
She clutched her guts, rocking on her knees, the lies of her bravado stripped away. Her face was red and wet, eyes swollen, and I found I could not look away. The sight of her brokenness didn’t make me kinder. It made me more resolute.
I stepped onto the balcony to breathe. The city glittered like it didn’t give a damn about the small cruelties and the wars we fought in glass houses. The night air hit my face and cooled the hot, ugly thing inside me just enough for me to think clearly.
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