On the surface her life appeared perfect, but the veil of a neat and tidy existence was just for show. Behind the facade she was a mess. She downed a handful of meds every morning just to be able to cope with her emotionally abusive husband. The bruises he left were never visible, but the scars ran deep.
After he left for work she strung a rope from the chandelier in the foyer–not knowing for sure whether or not it would hold her weight. With noose around her neck, she choked down her pills and stepped off the chair.