Each time I leave my house, even if it’s just a visit to the grocery store or coffee shop, I cry at the thought of returning home. Panic takes my bo...y. My heart feels like a bird who beats its wings against its cage. My heavy limbs drag me back, always back. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to drive into the nearest tree, stay on my side of the road, or not go flying off a bridge. I think the worst is when people tell me that they envy me, or that they wish they had a marriage like. She desperately hoped that nobody had read the pages inside, the little notes about sex, about how she figured a man should feel, about how she wanted to make love to her father (step-father technically). It hadn't been touched so she hoped nobody, especially her father, had seen her dark little secret. Her mind was also on her mother, and how the last few years it'd seemed like the two of them were less lovers, and more roomies now, going through the motions because it was habit, not because. More

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