He was a strange man. He might have been bisexual, but the thought of any gayness enraged him. He never struck me, but I endured hours of verbal abuse... I learned to tune him out. Despite it, he was a good provider, and an okay father. We had one son. Henry’s sixteen, small for his age. When he was eight, he heard his dad berating me. He’d heard it before, but something silly happened soon thereafter, and he ranted at me blaming me. For an eight year-old, I was stunned by how well he could put. “That would have been the day before the party, right?”“No, Mom. I just needed to shower. James was upstairs and—”“And I didn’t find fresh cum on your panties last night?” I asked, leaning towards her. “Huh? I just imagined the fresh stains? They were still wet.”She trembled.“Who are you having sex with, Jenny?”“No one,” she said, her voice rising. “You were mistaken. It wasn’t cum.”“Then what was it?”James opened his bedroom door. Jenny glanced at him. My son froze, wearing only his boxers.. More

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