The problems in our marriage were just as much his fault as they were mine. I did everything I could. I bought him a fucking house to help with his writing career, and instead, he used it to wine and dine and fuck another woman. Stop. I can’t think like this. I don’t know if I can separate myself from this. I just need time to think. I have to take a step back.

I begin gathering my things and push my chair back. Adam asks what I’m doing. Tears are forming in his eyes as panic sets in. He thinks I’m giving up on us, on him. I’m not. I don’t say anything. I hold back every emotion—anger, betrayal, sadness, worry, fear, all of it. I push it down, so far down.

The door behind me swings open as I take a step back. I’m thrown to the ground. My head clips the edge of the table and blood trickles down my face. I let out a scream. A six-foot man in a deputy’s uniform lunges over the table, tackling Adam to the floor. I wince as I touch the cut on my forehead and examine the blood on my fingertips. The officer with buzzed cut blond hair and wide shoulders pummels Adam’s face as he straddles him on the ground. Adam is trying to scream for help but struggles as the fists keep cutting him off and adding more blood to his mouth.

I get to my feet, stumble over to the officer and try to pull him off Adam. I punch him in the side of the head and ear. It doesn’t even phase him. Adam’s face is covered in blood, and his right eye is already swollen shut. He’s trying to stop the punches with his arms, but he’s no match for this man who is full of rage. I hit the officer again, and this time he stops for a second, looking back at me. His eyes are arctic blue and cracked with fissures of blood. He pushes me back without saying a word.

Just as I fall into the wall, Sheriff Stevens and Deputy Hudson storm in. They rip the man off Adam, who is nearly incapacitated on the floor. They’re screaming at him to stop.