The Price of Perfection

silent years I' d lived inside

ed with raising his son, Leo, in a life of un

ie led to a violent miscarriage,

the first cruel blow, his voice devoid of w

emblance, casually dismissed my profound loss, al

across my face as she called me ungrateful for

rrent of venom, accusing me of wanting his mother dead, twisti

en, felt corrupted, leaving me utterly alone

letter opener, threatening to mar the face that had been

d, with agonizing precision, d

ain was a primal s

carred, I bolted from that