My husband shoved me, shattering the bathroom mirror. His mother sneered, “Clean up this disgusting mess.” But as I fell, my husband roared, “What’s in your pocket?!” The red LED of my federal distress fob pulsed. Denied the third click, I threw myself onto the broken glass, and…

the architect of my own salvation.

I walked down the hall and stepped into my new, brightly lit bathroom. I turned on the faucet, splashing cool water over my face, letting it wash away the exhaustion of the long day at court.

I grabbed a plush towel and slowly patted my skin dry.

When I finally lifted my head and looked into the mirror above the sink,continue reading …