rried, the one who, after I took a near-fatal fall for him in a snowboarding competition, had knelt before a stat

emed to delight in my pain. He turned our home, the one we had designed together with so muc

orning, it was my job to clean up the mess. I would scrub wine stains from the carpets, pick up discarded cigarette butts, a

as empty. I slowly got out of bed, the pain in my body a dull, c

for something, anything, a shard of glass from a broke

p, his heavy footsteps retreating down the hall. A moment later, his a

s Peterson," the assistant stammered. "He said if you don

in the world. The threat hung in the air, vile and terrify

y eyes pleading. But he just looked away, unable to meet my gaze. Defeated