I immediately started to text her back, but then I thought of Victor. Victor had already threatened her once. And he seemed to know every single thing about my relationship with her. Down to the last time we talked.

I lowered my old Sidekick, switched it off, and then dropped it into the kitchen’s junk drawer. And when I closed the drawer, I knew I’d never power it up again.

I’d been trying to keep my head up, to reframe my narrative and all that other bull they’d taught me in the “up with women” curriculum at Mount Holyoke. But the truth was, I wasn’t independent. I wasn’t even my own woman now. And I definitely wasn’t living my best life despite everything.

I’d agreed to marry Victor. He owned me. And this had proven he could do with me as he pleased. Do anything to me that he pleased.

A new despondency stole over me. And instead of calling Lena, I went to my bedroom and cried out all the emotions I would usually smother with wine.

The crying went on for a while. Until I got so hungry, I had to go downstairs to get something to eat.

I didn’t feel like making anything from scratch today, so I found a frozen pizza I’d bought ages ago and tossed it in the oven.

But why? I wondered. Why bother to eat at all?

Everything felt so dark and hopeless. It didn’t matter how much sugar I put into the lemonade I’d made out of this ten-year sentence. My life tasted bitter. I had no future, no hopes or dreams, no way to tell my family the truth without endangering them. This wasn’t all right. It would never be all right.

Just when I thought I was all wrung out, I erupted into another crying fit while waiting for my pizza to finish heating up. Seriously, what did I even do before I started drinking to deal with all the stuff life threw at me?

The answer to that question made me pause, an old but no longer familiar urge coming over me.

Remember? A tiny voice from long ago asked me.

Yes, yes, I did. I hiccupped to a stop, an image of me as a teenager before I was allowed to drink floating into my head. There’d been that dinner when Mom had decided to try a new tactic of limiting me, but not my father or brother, to one serving at each meal. I’d slammed into my room, tears of shame and frustration rolling down my face. Then I….