The Price of a Punch
Language: en
My husband has Bipolar Disorder. Every time he beats me, he guiltily transfers $10,000. I never resist. I silently accept the money, covering the bruises with foundation. My best friend calls me cheap, urging me to divorce. I count the balance in my account, a sneer curling my lips. "Don't rush, the pig isn't fat enough yet." Until one day, he punched me in the stomach, and I miscarried.