Every morning, Mona steps out of bed with her sciatic foot screaming murder, puts on her running shoes, and lies back down because standing for more than thirty seconds sends red-hot daggers down her spine. Then she heads out to run—except, she can’t stop and stand. Not at a traffic light, not to order a coffee.

Mind you, Mona can’t sit either. Especially not at work, where the academic hyenas scream her name in abusive emails daily. One toxic boss after another strips her of her grant money, her intellectual ownership, and her dignity. And yet, she continues on her path, hoping to become a tenured professor in biomedical engineering.

Mona’s only way to succeed in academia appears to involve ignoring her body. At least that’s what her childhood abuse has taught her. But the disability, invisible to others, begins to scream louder than the hyenas, louder than life, louder than anything she’s ever heard.

How much trauma will she endure to get to the pinnacle of her career before she sets herself free? Will we watch Mona run towards her finish line of personal freedom, or will she step back into her confinement, only to endure more damage to her body?

What will it be this time

the thing

that I did wrong

the thing

I didn't do

the flaw

that I am

"There's hope, so much hope, in this recurring opportunity to shift our story—but will we ever grab it by its horns and seek out peace, real peace for once, once and for all?"