The Truth She Died To Tell

d after escaping was

with tired eyes, looked

said, her voice soft.

ghing up blood for months in

ked out. For three years, I dreamed of this moment, of ret

the one they broke during my second escape atte

e same. The paint was peeling a little more, but th

car was par

Ethan on the porch. He han

h certi

my body hidden in the shadows. Ethan took the paper, his f

left. Ethan

unding against my ribs. I limped up

stew filled the ai

an, my husband. Debra, his widowed s

spoonful of stew i

a cooed. "Finish y

at her and smile

any physical blow I' d endur

e standing in the doorway, a g

t with relief, but w

ly against the floor. He didn' t run

lled out a letter, and threw i

l have you been

was a st

e and then you crawl back here? What happened? H

andwriting was a looping, fem

that' s

ted, his voice echoing in the

g a hand on his arm. "Ethan, ho

of fake pity. "Gabrielle, you

g it up. While I was here, working my fingers to the bone, Debra was the one h

a shaking f

ed us. You ab

ns, the trap. But the words wouldn' t come out. I was too

ce twisted

t of my

gging into the bone, and dragged

in my bed. You' re not

ated mudroom, the one where we ke

you belong. Wi

d the dark. I collapsed onto the concrete floo

he door cracked open, and Ethan pushed a plate of sc

just dropped it on the f

t, because I needed the stren