Why Aren't We Talking About Girl-On-Girl Violence?

A siren cries and my eyes meet with the flashing lights of a police car. There's some shouting, and the scuffling of one, two, three pair of sneakers on gravel. It feels like one of those dreams when you try to run or scream but can’t. Except that I'm awake and aware that my body aches.

"Ma’am, are you okay?” asks a police officer. “Ma’am," he repeats. "Are you hurt?"

I grab my arm, which feels heavy and foreign in my grip, and shake my head.

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