Annika mocked her frequently. “You’re the only woman I know who doesn’t buy bride magazines.”
Elle shrugged, never offering an explanation for why marriage wasn’t her priority.
Screams, splintering glass, the tiny girl cowering against the headboard, arms hugging her knees tightly to her body. Drunken arguments. Betrayals. Words spit with fire intent upon wounding. Bitterness mottling faces. Nightmare visages worse than any ghouls hiding under her bed or in the closet. Early she learned to hide at the hint of mother’s vitriol, the blush of father lying.
Nightly she witnessed the dissolution of marriage.