Fattening the Pig
Language: en
My husband has Bipolar Disorder. Every time he beats me, he guilt-trips himself into wiring me five grand. I never fight back. I take the money in silence and cover the bruises with heavy foundation. My best friend calls me pathetic. She tells me to divorce him. I just count the balance in my offshore account, a cold smirk touching my lips. "Don't rush," I whisper to myself. "This pig isn't fat enough for the slaughter yet." Until one day, he punched me in the stomach, and I lost the baby. Or so he thought.