My husband controlled and ab:us:ed me every day. One day, I fainted. He rushed me to the hospital, putting on a perfect act: “She fell down the stairs.” But he didn’t expect the doctor to notice signs that only a trained eye could catch. He didn’t ask me anything — he looked straight at him and called security: “Lock the door. Call the police.”

open, and afterward he told Hannah she should be grateful he was teaching her boundaries before someone else hurt her for being careless.

He never chose visible places. He hurt her ribs, her upper arms, her thighs, the places sweaters and denim and practiced smiles could keep hidden from a world that preferred easy stories.

By the next morning, he would continue reading …