“You’ll suffer naturally because you’re toxic,” my doctor husband sneered, blocking the nurses from performing a C-section for my giant 10-pound baby as revenge for his intern. I writhed in pain, clutching the bed rails until my knuckles turned white. When the grueling delivery finally ended, the heavy delivery room doors banged open. My husband staggered in, his face drained of color as he looked at the newborn chart, fell to the floor, and shrieked, “No… that’s impossible! Whose child is-“
final fragile thread tethering Bradley Jenkins to reality simply snapped. His mind retreated into a dark, impenetrable fortress of delusion.
Using the very last hundred-dollar bill hidden in his shoe, he bribed a desperate cab driver to trace the GPS coordinates of my registered vehicle. He knew I was untouchable now, insulated by wealth and power. continue reading …