Chapter 2: The Folder With My Name On It
My legs gave out.
I grabbed the edge of the table just to stay upright.
My husband.
My sister.
My mother.
"How long?" I managed to whisper.
"How long has this been going on?"
Nobody answered.
That silence was its own confession.
"ANSWER ME!" My voice cracked through the room like a whip.
My sister flinched.
"It...
it started about a year ago.
I didn't mean for it to—"
"A year." I laughed, but there was nothing funny about it.
"A whole year."
I turned to my mother.
She couldn't even lift her eyes off the floor.
"Mama, look at me." My voice dropped to something cold and quiet.
"Look at me right now."
She raised her head slowly.
The guilt on her face told me everything before she even opened her mouth.
"Baby, I tried to stop it.
I tried to tell you, but he said if I did, he would—"
"He would what?" I stepped toward her.
"What did he threaten you with, Mama?"
My husband shot to his feet.
"That's enough."
The way he said it — not guilty, not ashamed.
Controlled.
Like he was still in charge of this room.
That's when I noticed the folder sitting on the kitchen counter.
The one he'd been carrying when he came home that evening.
My name was printed across the top.
"What is that?" I pointed at it.
May you like
"What is in that folder?"
He moved toward the counter faster than I expected.
