Nine Divorces, One Last Stand
e y
court
red and twenty-five day
time Mark Thompson h
t straight in my chair, my hands folded neatly in my lap, feeling the judge' s tired gaze wash ov
, his voice flat with routine.
and this was just another stage. He was handsome, charming, and he k
ed sincerity. He then turned slightly, allowing the single reporter in the back row to get a better
younger than me, with wide, innocent eyes that were currently fille
per on the witness stand
ah is with child. My child. It would be morally wrong to force us to r
paper, his expression un
Thompson, you
rk or Sarah. I just
e is this, Y
o slid a tablet across th
black-and-white video. It was from a surveillance c
ng at my clothes, his face buried in my shoulder. His voi
een begged, his words slurred. "Please, don'
rabbed my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and tore at my earlobe with his teeth. It
reen, taken the next morning. My earlobe was swollen, brui
for a long moment. He took off
looked directly at Mark,
arriage," the judge said, his voice now laced with steel. "They are the actions of a
ed the g
smissed
his confidence fully restored, wrapped a protective arm arou
a sneer twisting
ebrate too s
celebrati
at. "I' ll keep fighting. I' ll keep filing unti
A small, stupid part of me still believed that one day he would see my wo
died a few
his wife, his prop. I drank, maybe a little too much, trying to num
ach. It felt like a hot poker was twisting in my gut. I b
, gasping for air, and found Mar
y stomach. "Something' s wrong. Yo
His focus was entirely on
ng, baby?" h
she whimpered. "And this stree
t now." He opened the car door fo
me double over. "I think... I think I hav
look at me, his eyes
aking it
was cold,
knows how much you can drink.
iver' s seat and s
something. Stop
rring with the blinding pain.
Just obey, or I' ll file for divorce again at the next
n the dark, empty street. The pain was a roaring fire
isappearing taill
pty air, the words tasting like blood a
painfull
-