Ugh. I’d rather smash my face into a million bureau corners than hear him say that to me ever again.
I chuck my phone back into my purse and flop against the pillow. The pamphlet the nurse left behind catches my eye, sitting there on the little wheeled table. The laughing woman pictured on the front looks so deliriously happy that I almost suspect they drugged her for the photoshoot. No one should be smiling that big, ever.
When the nurse set it down, I assumed it was aftercare instructions and paid it no mind. It doesn’t take a genius to remember not to rip out your stitches; it just takes, like, not being a literal dog.
But then I see the pamphlet titled picture in somber sans serif.
Are You in an Abusive Relationship?
I laugh so crazily that I feel like I kinda look like the woman
