night?”
“Yes.”
“And you really don’t remember how that happened?”
“No.”
Her voice
became quieter.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?”
I immediately understood what she was asking.
“Sarah, your father has never hurt me.”
“I’m not accusing him.”
But she looked scared.
And, for the first time, so was I. An hour later, she drove me to our doctor.
Dr. Collins examined the bruise carefully.
He asked whether I had fallen recently, whether I had started any new medication, and whether I had noticed unexplained bruises anywhere else.
Then he asked something that made Sarah and me both go silent.
“Was your husband beside you last night?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you remember waking up?”
“No.”
He looked at me for a few seconds.
Then he asked gently:
“Do you feel safe at home?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes. Of course.”
But I hated that I had hesitated before
