My Husband Does Not Know I Am Dead
Language: en
I shattered my spine jumping in front of the truck to save my son. Just like that, a Principal Dancer was reduced to a prisoner in a chair. I tore up all my leotards and costumes, hurling every medal against the wall until the plaster cracked. My son, Sam, clung to the wheel of my chair, sobbing. “It’s my fault, Mom.” “Please, Mom, yell at me, hit me, but stop doing this to yourself, okay?” I tried to slit my wrists with a pair of manicure scissors once. My husband, Rhys, pinned me down, his face pale and desperate. “If you leave, what about Sam and me?” After that, Sam brought me…