I Prayed for a Miracle—Now I Lock My Door at Night

he said flatly.

“I ran an errand,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

He stood up slowly, blocking the doorway.

“You don’t get to just leave,” he said.

There was something chilling in the simplicity of it.

Not rage.

Ownership.

I felt the old fear rise, hot and automatic.

Then I thought of the support group circle. The folding chairs. The people who didn’t continue reading …