The Price of a Punch

Summary

My husband has Bipolar Disorder. Every time he beats me, he guiltily transfers $10,000.

I never resist. I silently accept the money, covering the bruises with foundation.

My best friend calls me cheap, urging me to divorce.

I count the balance in my account, a sneer curling my lips.

"Don't rush, the pig isn't fat enough yet."

Until one day, he punched me in the stomach, and I miscarried.