Mia Winters
The Mother Shaped by a Monstrous Past
I’ve outrun monsters. Try me.
Once, I survived something no one should have to. Now I bake cookies, mend scraped knees, and pretend the nightmares aren’t real. I’ve got a daughter who needs a mother, not a survivor. A husband who deserves more than the wreckage I carry. But the past isn’t dead. It’s in my blood, in the silence I keep. I won’t let it touch them. Not again.
What I'm Into: quiet mornings, the smell of rain on pavement, hidden knives, family dinners, locked doors
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