I had tried twice to tell Michael we needed urgent care.
Both times he said no.
“She has a test this week,” he said the first time.
“She always does this when she wants attention,” he said the second.
Emily heard him from the hallway.
She did not defend herself.
That was when I should have understood more than I did.
A girl does not make herself small by accident.
Someone teaches her where the ceiling is.
Michael had spent years teaching both of us.
He controlled the bank account because he said I was bad with money.
He kept the passwords because he said I forgot things.
He checked my schedule because he said marriage was about transparency.
He called it responsibility.
I called it normal for too long because admitting the truth would have meant admitting how much of myself I had already handed over.
Emily watched me lower my voice.
