He Drowned Me Once. This Time, I Have a Plan

Same rain. Same girl in his arms. Same order. "Hannah, give them the bed." I didn't cry. I gave it up. Because last time I begged, he kicked our four-year-old into a sewer drain behind me. Last time, we both drowned in the dark. Now I'm back — and I remember everything. The student wife is just a pawn. The husband I served for twenty years is a monster. And my daughter has less than three months before he sells her to strangers across state lines. Last time I lost everything trying to be a good wife. This time, I'm burning his entire world down — quietly, while he still thinks I love him.