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His face twisted and his eyes filled with tears. His suffering was real as he started crying, really crying. His shoulders were shaking, one hand coming up to cover his face. “I can’t stand this. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m missing an arm or a leg. How do you keep going? When will this feeling go away?”

“Daniel.” What could I say? I hurt for him, felt sorry for him. Maybe the abuse wasn’t a choice. Maybe he did have some legitimate emotional problems that caused his temper. I would probably never know.

“Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you listen to me, see what we need to do? You keep pushing and pushing.” He shoved away from the counter, coming to stand inches from me.

I could see the pulse in his throat, the light perspiration on his forehead. Tension rolled off him, tightening as his muscles grew taut, tensing. I knew I had to put some space between us quickly.

“Claire, you’re not giving me a choice.” Tears started welling in his eyes and he took a deep breath. “Don’t you see? You have the power to make it better.” He paused, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder hesitantly. His eyes followed his hand, staring at his hand…on me.

I didn’t wince at his touch; I was proud of that. “How?” My voice trembled.

His pupils contracted and his breath grew harsh. “Come home, now. Get my kids, be my wife, let us try again. This isn’t anyone else’s business. I can forgive you for him because I love you.” His voice was husky as he spoke, his bright blue eyes pained as they caught mine. His hand tightened on my shoulder and something flickered in his eyes. “We need to find our way back to each other, Claire. One man, one woman, and our children.”

Panic filled me. He was close to the breaking point. I didn’t have much time to defuse the situation, if I could. I felt myself giving in, felt the fear winning.

No, I’m not going to give up. Not this time.

I spoke softly. I tried to sound placating. “We need to find a counselor, someone who can help us through our problems. Maybe that could help.”

He shook his head as I finished. His eyes, his familiar blue eyes, hardened and I felt myself start to shake. I knew that look and I dreaded what was to come.

“This is between you and me. We’re going to fix this mess, one way or another. Right now.” His hand cupped my neck as he smiled at me. “But you won’t come home, will you, Claire?”

I should say yes, I should give him what he wanted. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live with any more lies. “I can’t.”

His mouth twitched, twisting into a hard line. I felt myself recoil. His hand tightened about my neck, bracing me as his other arm shot out. His fist hit me across the cheek and blinding pain ripped across my face. My head snapped back, hitting the cabinet door behind me with a resounding thud. My neck, my head seemed to be floating and stars covered my line of sight. The second punch wasn’t as bad; there wasn’t time to recover from the first one.

Everything went black as the pain crowded in on me, pressing me down. My hands flailed, whether to ward him off or steady myself, I wasn’t sure. There was nothing to hold on to so I slipped to the floor.

I tried to push myself up, but I couldn’t get my bearings. My ears rang and my eyes couldn’t focus. I pulled in a breath right as he kicked, hard. The impact knocked me back. I fell on my right arm, pressing it into an awkward angle. It popped, shooting hot flames of pain from my wrist to my elbow. I cried out as I fell back to the floor.

I needed help.

I didn’t know if I could get away. I tried to scream. But the sound that tore from my throat was choked, rasping, and brittle. His foot connected again, emptying my lungs completely. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

Pain, sharp and jagged, radiated from my arm, my face, and my chest, overwhelming me. Please stop, Daniel. But the words didn’t come out. My mouth couldn’t form words.

I’d been hit before, many times. But this was different. I knew he wasn’t going to let it go this time. Fear for my life washed over me.

I could try to reason with him, but my lungs were still empty and words wouldn’t come. Instead, I groaned pathetically and I felt frustrated tears choking me.

“Shut up, Claire!” he yelled.

I heard an odd clicking sound and looked up at him. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Something warm and wet obscured my vision further, but I narrowed my eyes and willed myself to focus.

Daniel stood trembling, his face twisted as he sobbed. But I didn’t care about that. My eyes were riveted on Fred, Mom’s nine-millimeter. In his shaking hands. Pointed at me.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen.” His voice rose. “I can’t keep pretending that things will get better. They won’t. Because of you. You’re not going to give us a chance.” He looked at me, his face a mix of sadness and hatred.

Fear and pain pressed in on me. “Please, Daniel—”

“Stop. Stop it. Stop arguing, Claire.” He spoke each word sharply, enunciating.

“Please…” My voice was a whisper, thin and wavering.

“Shut up! Just stop.” His face was red, growing taut with a flash of rage.

I heard the shot, felt a sharp heat in my side. Initially it felt like he’d hit me again, with a hot knife. I hadn’t thought there could be more pain, but I was wrong. It seared through me, leaving me gasping and holding my side as the agony clouded my vision.

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