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Daughters Lost

It is difficult to convey the horror of losing your children like this. I found it hard to sleep, to concentrate. Every night I had beautiful dreams in which my children were young and loving, and every morning I woke up to a reality more like a nightmare.

Betrayals

“Mask her!”, “No nemina!”, “He’s beating her up again”

Six Days

The investigator from the department of mental health, Mr. D., called yesterday to tell me that the woman who seduced me after my stay on the K-4 unit a dozen years ago has been suspended from work for six days.

Cabin Pressure

Ted stares blankly at the seat before him, wondering how his travel agent could have construed his standard request for more leg room as a request for this miserable seat. His legs are cramped, his neck tense.

Running Away

A niece’s realization, a mother’s uncontrollable urge, a father’s double life

Tending

A Death-Defying Act

The Work Of Jane Orleman

I have had many dreams of being choked by a rapist, which of course I was. That was forty years ago when I was a child. I am still holding my breath.

Stones: A Love Story

When Izzy gets to the boardwalk, she thinks about turning back. Maybe he won’t remember her, maybe he’s forgotten it all.

The Necessity To Speak

I see them every day, the wounded women in the supermarket or in the bookstore, the children beaten to a whimper until all life has grayed in them. I’ve learned to recognize Fear’s signature scrawled across their faces, the way one learns to recognize a man who walks with a “prison shuffle.”

Drinks

“I’m going to do you to death,” he said. “How about that. Not because you’re pretty, either, because you’re not, but because you can’t stop me. How about that.”