“Pay the rent or get out!”

A nurse helped Evelyn sit up, her hands shaking. “Please… just stop,” she whispered—she wasn’t sure if she meant him, the officers, or the storm in her own chest.

The second officer moved between them, creating a barrier. “Sir, hands where we can see them.”

Samuel lifted his palms, eyes darting. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “She never listens.”

Evelyn heard the familiar script—the blame dressed up as concern—and something inside her went cold. But then she saw the nurses’ faces: pure shock. No one was normalizing this. No one was excusing him.

The officers escorted Samuel out after a brief, firm exchange. His footsteps faded, but the heaviness stayed behind.

As staff checked Evelyn’s vitals and examined her stitches, their voices softened. “Do you have someone we can call?” a nurse asked.

Evelyn hesitated. Her support system had always been thin—years of managing her father’s chaos didn’t leave much room for anything else.

Still, she nodded. “Yeah… I do.”

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