“Sweetheart, why are there marks on your face?” my father asked the moment he arrived to wish me a happy birthday. My husband didn’t flinch—he smirked and said he was responsible. The room went cold. My father quietly removed his watch, set it on the table, and told me firmly to step outside. Minutes later, the first person to emerge was my mother-in-law—desperate and shaken—and I knew everything had changed.

 Margaret stumbled toward the back door—on her hands and knees. Crawling. Desperate. Terrified. Trying to escape before her own son[…]

Read more