AURELIA MARLOWE

I had never been a violent person.

I had never raised my hand against anyone, never thrown anything harder than a cushion and never once wished genuine harm on another human being. Yet since marrying the monster who walked around this house in the shape of a man, my thoughts had become positively deranged. I had imagined striking him across the face so many times in the past hour that I could almost feel the sting in my palm. Worse, I had imagined my hands around his throat, squeezing until that infuriating calm finally cracked and he understood how it felt to have someone else decide whether you...