Tris's POV
My father's hand came down hard across my cheek, a loud, sharp crack echoing through the cold room.
The sheer force of the slap made my glasses fly from my face.
I heard them hit the ground with a brittle snap, and when I looked down, the lenses were cracked, fractured like my pride.
But I didn't even get the chance to reach for them.
Before my hand could move, my mother's palm collided with the other side of my face.
The slap was twice as hard.
The blow sent me reeling, my knees giving way, and I collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving floor.
"You really are a fucking useless disappointment," my father spat, towering above me like I was nothing. "I can't believe I actually thought you'd be good enough—worthy enough—to become the wife of the next Sword Saint. What a fucking disgrace."
