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I had never hit him before or even pushed him during our entire marriage. For seven years, he believed my silence was a form of weakness and that my fear was actually love.
“Are you crazy, you psycho?” Megan shouted from the entrance of the room.
“No, I am just finished with you,” I said firmly. Jason lunged at me again, but I was ready for his predictable movements.
I stepped aside and watched him crash into the dining room table. He knocked over the crystal vase my mother used to fill with yellow roses every Sunday afternoon.
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