I opened the front door. Crisp autumn air rushed in. I glanced back at the silent, trembling older woman.

“You’re going to grow old in terror, Christine. Because when your strength finally rots away, the system you worshipped will turn its fangs on you.”

I stepped out, the wheels of my suitcase clattering like a victory march down the concrete hallway.

Chapter 4: The Army of the Mat

Five minutes later I was in the passenger seat of a battered Honda Civic driven by Michael, my fellow coach. I’d called him the moment I hit the street.

He gripped the wheel, eyes scanning the red crescents on my jaw and the taped scratches on my wrists. He didn’t offer platitudes. He operated with the grim efficiency of a veteran cornerman.

“I’ve been in this industry fifteen years, Alex.” He navigated the morning traffic. “I’ve seen abusers twist the narrative. They’ll claim you used excessive force.