The radio hummed show up several(prenominal) nameless tune that seemed to turn back the beat with rain hitting the windscreen. She sat, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, waiting for the turning traffic to stop and the green arrow to prognosticate it was her turn.
It was then that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and a feeling of c experient dread spread across her strong body. Turning to the car next to her she saw him. The world around her seemed to swim and she struggled to regain her composure. He grinned that same grin that employ to make her blood run c sometime(a) and she saw him verbalise the words that had become a daily threat cardinal socio-economic classs ago when they were married. youre dead bitch.
A car snoot brought her back to the present, and she saw that the green arrow sign tout ensembleed for her and the cars waiting rear end her to turn. With an apologetic wave to the car behind her, she turned the recessional and quickly pulled over to the side of the road. No matter how strenuous she tried, the tears she had held onto now threatened to spill mess her cheeks, and her throat ached with an unreleased sob caught there by the fear and hopelessness she felt. Her hands shook so hard she could barely wrap them to brush away the tears, and her lips quivered with a movement that resembled her four year olds mouth when he was chastised for flushing yet another toy down the toilet. This thought brought a small, tremulous smile to her face, and breathing deeply, she pulled herself-importance up straight in the seat and silently vowed that this man had unmake her once, and she would never allow him that same chance again. She would be...
WOW WOW WOW
I could almost swear this was my life though i am oftentimes younger ans only ask three from that marriage and and now remmarried. my first husband is your vilian to a T I was stupid to stay as long as i did and almost cost me my three year old . just a glimpse of what i have seen a gun pointed at mt four month old daughter and to my head. beaten be yond reconition. such anxiety oncoming no a really never go out in public. beaten in front of my son that money box this day still suffer from night terrors and take meds for. beatting composition pregnat with blinds and steeled toed boots targeting the baby .
daughther that talks about killing her self a 8 and a new husband that capability not beat me but mental abuse volition in the end drive me nuts. choices i really have none. choices to save my children or die
I chose to expect and now live in hiding because he got off on all the mulitude of attacks by saying i cant afford my medication for scizo fenia and i need help. so this book is going to be great i defintly want a copy and occur people like me in mind.
I like it. I forecast you should definitely continue it, and develope it into a novel or something if you can. Its great, although some of the lines you use are soooo typical in almost every novel - consider revising.
Hey i just thought of something. Theres a shampoo called no more tears you wouldnt get sued for use that would you? I liked the prologue...it does need work though..its of draft quality. honourable take my suggestions into consideration. I definately think it should be written from inaugural person narration, because it is auto-biographical, and not third person..because it seems to be too take away and doesnt let the audience connect to the story as much as they should
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