“The trouble with you,” he sneered, as he ran his finger along the door-top and flicked an imaginary speck of dust into the sterile dustbin, “is that you are slapdash with the housework.”“The trouble with you,” she thought, as she gnashed her teeth, her blood seething, “is that you’ve got it coming to you, and you don’t even realise it.”Each day, he criticised something in order to undermine her self-esteem; her hair, her clothes; her cooking; her spending; her family... Just when she was on the verge of feeling worthless, she’d reconnected with an old friend on facebook who had also been the victim of an abusive marriage. She had played the scenario over and over again a zillion times in her mind. When push came to shove - literally - she yanked his head back, again and again, until his neck was broken, put on her pyjamas, and ran out into the street yelling that her husband had fallen down the stairs.
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