The first kick did not sound like what I expected violence to sound like. It was a dull, ugly thud against my body,

The first kick did not sound like what I expected violence to sound like. It was a dull, ugly thud against my body, followed by the scrape of Mark’s work boot on the kitchen tile and the sharp copper taste rising in my mouth. I hit the floor, my hand flying to my seven-month pregnant belly as the kitchen blurred. Mark loomed over me, his face a mask of cold, calculated cruelty, his voice a jagged blade of betrayal as he whispered… Continue reading…