I Am Not Your Penance
Language: en
My boyfriend was a field doctor with an international aid group, and I was a pampered heiress who had never known a day of real hardship. When the field clinic in the conflict zone was bombed, he threw protocol to the wind. Ignoring a room full of casualties, he clawed through the rubble like a madman to dig me out. "If you so much as scratch your skin," he’d said, his voice raw and trembling, "I will lose my mind." On the flight back to New York, he held my dust-covered hand tightly, kissing my knuckles as if he had just survived a brush with death. I borrowed his laptop to send my…