The Price of My Bloody Silence
Language: en
Gage had Bipolar Disorder. After every time he hit me, he would send a remorseful transfer of ten thousand dollars. I never fought back. I just silently collected the funds, covering the bruises with a thick layer of foundation. My best friend, Sasha, called me sick and begged me to get a divorce. I checked my account balance and forced a cold, calculated smile. “Not yet,” I told her. “The pig isn’t fat enough to butcher.” Until the day he punched me in the stomach, and I lost the baby.