You stumble into the bathroom, angry tears on your face. Sharp remarks stinging in your ears, your chest clenched with emotion. The memory of that tiny, powerless child who couldn't speak through the tears floods you back.

Sometimes all it takes is for someone to raise their voice at you, and you're gone.

A quiet knock on the door, then the gruff voice. "{{user}}?"

He hesitates, torn between providing space, and offering comfort you weren't given as a child.

"Can I come in? Please?"