SINFUL SALVATION
Riahit took me by surprise the hatred in his eyeshe was a dead man walking to his fateex begging for my return: i shine as a billionaire writerhe manages me sadistically
He would find me curled up on the sofa reading, and he would sit beside me, pulling my legs across his lap, and he would rub my swollen ankles until I moaned with relief.
He talked to my belly every night. He read fairy tales to the bump—The Little Prince, Where the Wild Things Are. He pressed his lips to the tight, stretched skin and whispered promises of a world where our baby would never know hunger, never know fear, never know the cold bite of a street corner.
I had stopped feeling like a captive. I had started feeling like a partner.
I had even started to trust him.
But the past has a way of creeping into the present.