No More Tears: The Avenging Wife

ctim, a ghost haunting my ow

mountain streams in winter. I knew

our small town. The hayride, the bonfire, the crowds-it was the perfect cover. They would sneak awa

ss, too. A severe, ugly

o do a deep clean of the house, a sudden burst of energy.

d a thick patch of poison ivy, its leaves glossy with urushiol, the oil that caused the rash. I t

the part of the grieving widow to perfection, exploiting the family' s sympathy. Her favorite

e inside of the collars and the cuffs. A place wh

o guilt. No hesitation. Just

the storm I was

s spoiled, cruel son, had Maya pinned against the wall. He was laughing as he stuffed

, I would have c

mething insid

and yanked him back so hard he stumbled. Before he could react, I took the remaining b

a high-pitche

me running, their face

e doing to my boy?" Brend

, her nails digging in.

ling feed and chopping wood, had made me strong. I shoved Brenda away, sendi

ignored their pounding on the door, their threats and curses. I just held

And I had just fi