There is a strange thing that happens when you have spent most of your life surviving. You become very good at it. You learn to read the room before anyone speaks. You learn which footsteps mean trouble. You learn to anticipate moods, swallow needs, stay useful, stay busy, stay alert. You become capable. Independent. Productive. Maybe even impressive. You can carry an enormous amount because you learned early that somebody had to. And then, sometimes years later, you finally reach a place where the war is over. And you are exhausted.
— God’s Huntress