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…
glass. “Stop performing as if you’ve been dismembered. It’s a minor burn, Clara. Not a Greek tragedy.”
I let my shoulders slump, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. The pain was a living, breathing entity wrapped around my arm, but beneath it, a cold, sharp clarity began to bloom. I forced my breathing to remain shallow and erratic. I knew the continue reading …
