Chapter 1

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CAMILA

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that when I come home I want dinner on the table, why is that so hard for your lazy ass to remember? Do you think I work hard all day just so I can come home and make my own dinner?"

I stand behind the kitchen island and listen to my husband berate me once again. I hate him. I have hated him for longer than I could remember, but I felt too trapped to do anything about it. He held the fate of my parents in the palm of his hands and I had to be the wife that he wanted if I wanted my parents to be safe.

"I'm talking to you! I asked you a question, Camila. Are you lazy and deaf now?"

The truth is that I had almost zoned out while he was yelling at me. It was such a common occurrence that it was easy for me to do. "No, I'm sorry, Miguel. I promise you that dinner will be done in less than ten minutes."

"Ten minutes is too late! You knew that I was on my way home, did you not?"

I nod my head and glance down at my feet. "I knew you would be home soon, but I was helping Nico with his homework and I guess I lost track of time."

Miguel takes long, purposely strides into the kitchen. In a quick movement, he spins me around and pushes my back against the same island that I was using as my protection before. With his arms on either side of me, I was pinned in, trapped, right where he always liked it. "So you're telling me this is Nico's fault?"

Nico was our ten-year-old son. He had been struggling at school this year and I had zero doubt in my mind that all the years living in this abusive household had finally caused too much trauma for him to be able to concentrate in school. I spent time every day working with him, especially in math, to build up his confidence and understanding in his school work. Tonight was no exception, except we had gotten on a roll and I completely lost track of time, hence dinner not being done.

"It wasn't Nico's fault, Miguel. He is just a kid. It was my fault. I should have been paying attention. I'm sorry."

Miguel's hand wrap around my neck with just enough pressure to take my breath away without completely choking me. His fingernails were just long enough to dig into my skin. I had to force my eyes up to face Miguel, to beg and plead with my tears to let me go. "Sorry doesn't make dinner, does it?"

"No,' I force out, even though he continues to grip against my throat.

"I'm going to get changed and expect everything ready when I am back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miguel. Everything will be ready, I promise."

With that, he finally releases the hold on my throat and proceeds down the hallway to where our master bedroom is located. I take a moment to compose myself, but don't get much time when I hear a muffled sob coming from the opposite side of the house. I quickly turn in the direction of the hallway to the kids' bedrooms and see the swirl of pink disappear. I check the oven and see there is only three minutes left so I turn off the oven and make my way into my daughter, Anna's, bedroom. She is curled up on her bed, holding her favorite stuffed unicorn.

"Anna, baby girl?" I slowly move towards her bed and sit on the edge of the bed. Her sobs are shaking the bed.

"He's in a bad mood, isn't he?" My heart breaks for her. She should be worried about princesses and baby dolls, not her dad being angry.

Carefully, I take her into my arms and give her a big squeeze. "He just needs to calm down. Mommy made a mistake and didn't have dinner ready, but it is okay. Just be on your best behavior and you'll be just fine." I kiss the top of her head, trying to convince myself of the same thing. I hated that I couldn't do more to protect my children. I cried myself to sleep many nights for putting them through this, but I just couldn't see a way out.

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