My husband pushed me down the stairs, and as I lay shattered at the bottom, my mother-in-law called my father and said, “Come get your worthless daughter and take her back.” Dad gave her only one warning: “If she has so much as a scratch, your family will answer for it.” They laughed at him because they had absolutely no idea who my father truly was.

She thanked me for saying that someone could be frightened and still be credible.

“I thought I had to sound calm before anyone would believe me,” she said.

I recognized the thought immediately.

“You deserve to be heard even if your voice shakes.”

I gave her the printed resources the organizers had provided.

I did not ask for her story.

It belonged to her.

Dad waited by the exit holding my coat.