The apartment door closes behind me with a quiet click that sounds too final for something so small. For a moment I consider turning back, locking myself inside, letting the silence devour the day. But my chest feels tight, my thoughts claustrophobic. I need air more than I need safety.

I pull on an oversized sweater and loose cotton trousers, the fabric barely grazes the bruises. Sunglasses, because the mirror will not be kind. Hair braided to keep it out of my way. I don't give myself the courtesy of a second look.