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My husband slammed my hand onto the burning stove because the steak was “overcooked.” As I collapsed in agony, my mother-in-law stepped over me, laughing, “She needs to learn her place.” My father-in-law just turned up the TV. They thought I was reaching for a bandage. I smiled through the tears and whispered, “enjoy your last few minutes of peace.” then, the siren lights flashed outside…

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on the record.

Inside the bathroom, I hastily ran my hand under cold water, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from screaming. I wrapped the angry, red, blistered flesh in a clean white hand towel. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair disheveled, my face pale and drawn. I looked exactly like the victim they continue reading …

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