![]() ![]() ![]() Without looking at up at her, I asked flatly, “Did he say anything to you?” “Are you okay?” Christina, our babysitter, asked quietly as she appeared in the doorway. After I was done emptying my lunch into the toilet, I sat back against the bathroom wall and pulled my knees up to my chest, putting my head in my hands. The bile started to rise up in my throat as I put my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom, getting there just in time. How could he do this? How could he do this now, after three years? Our twin girls were turning one next week. As I pulled his empty drawers out of the dresser completely, throwing them to the ground one by one, it hit me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably and my chest tightened as I sprinted to our bedroom and ripped the closet door open-nothing but empty hangers on his side. I stood in my kitchen, staring down at the black letters, trying to force my brain to believe that I must be reading them wrong. As a favor, I already paid the sitter and left you $100. This is not what I wanted and I’ve had enough. I have no freedom, I have to work all the time, and I never get to see my friends. I listened to you when you said things would be great. ![]()
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