Six months pregnant, I was being strangled against the wall while his mistress laughed from our bedroom. I thought
I woke to the rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor. The hospital room was sterile, white, and safe. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. It was still round. Still hard. “She’s alive,” a deep voice said from the corner. My father sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, looking like he hadn’t slept in a…
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