Cara
I stand in front of the big mirror at the vanity in my bathroom.
Beautiful granite countertops. Gold framing around everything. Luxurious towels, fresh flowers, oil scent infusers. Everything gleaming, everything clean.
Everything impersonal, distant, too perfect.
I touch my face, drag a finger down my cheek. How did I end up here, in this place?
My life was a nightmare with Christopher. This is infinitely better. I don't go to sleep wondering if my husband is going to hurt me each night. I still take birth control, but mostly because I'm afraid that if I stop, I'll get trapped.
I don't want to feel like I'm in a cage.
Not ever again.
But this feels wrong too. I should want this place, want the comfort, the ease. I should be happy that I get to lie around the pool all day drin
