I locked my wife in the pantry under the stairs

of it. I told them I locked you in.”

Her eyes open.

Something flickers there. Not forgiveness. Maybe surprise.

“I’m not asking you to come home,” I say. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to think about me at all right now. I just need you to know I will not protect her. Not anymore. Not with silence. Not with excuses. Not with the continue reading …