Jeff comes into the bedroom with a look in his eyes that makes my blood run cold. He’s gripping his belt like he might just hit me with it. I know he has been drinking a lot. I thought he was just tipsy when he came home, but now, I’m pretty sure he’s drunk. He’s hit me before in all mental states from cold stone sober to nearly passed out drunk, so I know that doesn’t really matter, but as he stands there, glaring into the bedroom at me, I don’t know what to do. I wish I had the phone out of its hiding place so I could call...