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like it weighed a thousand pounds.
When my husband h:it me, my parents saw the b:ruise — said nothing, and walked away. He smirked from his chair, beer in hand: “Polite little family you’ve got.”
Grant looked from them to me.
“What the hell is this?”
My father finally raised his eyes.
“It’s what we should have done five years ago.”
When my husband struck me, my parents noticed the bruise — said nothing, and walked away. He smirked from his recliner, beer dangling from one hand. “Such a polite little family,” he continue reading …
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