Everyday I forced myself to believe he was right. I told myself over and over again. Sometimes I believed he had the right to discipline me, to lord o...er me.Was donning this an act of defiance? I glanced out at the street, the box lying on our porch. Inside, my daughter, Anahit, was taking dinner out to the table to feed my angry husband and our son, growing into the same sort of tyrant as him. At sixteen, Edvard had grown into the same sort of man as his father, following in the same. She looked at it for a moment and, realizing it was covered in her woman juice, licked it off every finger before finishing her wine glass. She placed the glass back on the table and stuck the iPad beside it before rolling over and going to sleep.It was another thirty minutes before he moved again. He wanted to make sure she had fallen asleep, and her steady breathing was confirmation of that. Slowly, he opened the closet door so as not to make a sound. It didn't creak when he entered it, but. More

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