The Unborn Witness
Language: en
I had just walked through the front door after a grueling five-day business trip when I noticed a shred of black lace peeking out from beneath the living room sofa. I crouched down, hooked my toe around it, and dragged it out into the light. It was a pair of black sheer stockings—shredded right down the seam. A cold, suffocating weight dropped into the pit of my stomach. Every ounce of exhaustion from the red-eye flight rushed to my head, leaving me completely numb. I looked at Gavin, sitting in his wheelchair by the window, and heard my own voice come out flat and dead: "I'm exhausted,…