After I was Domestically Abused

"Natalie, where's my breakfast?"

I woke up with a jolt, the burning pain in my back reminding me that I had been reborn—reborn to a time before my domestic abuse was exposed.

Sarah kicked open the door. "Didn't you hear me calling? Where's my breakfast?"

Looking at my young daughter in her school uniform, Sarah Miller, I recalled her indifferent attitude in my previous life after I was attacked online.

A wave of impatience surged in me. "Can't you make it yourself? You've got hands and feet, don't you?"