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She collapsed in exhaustion from her short run through the trees, as the heat of the day intensified the bruising throughout her body. Digging through the soft, green moss, she pulled out a rusted, metal box. This was her haven, her getaway, the only place she could find true solitude. After every bruise, every black eye and broken bone, she came back to this place. It gave her peace, a feeling of warmth. She opened her box, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she pulled out the dirty, worn book. It's pages brittle from age, the book carried the peace and joy that she needed to get through every beating. As she gently turned each page, tears dripped down her cheeks. This was love, everlasting, undying love, if only he could understand it.
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He had done it again, even after he promised not to. How many more times would she have to tiptoe around his minefield of rage? How long would there be glass shards of unspoken violence under her feet? She was so careful with him, but she had to tell him this time. She was going to have their child. Flying into a rage, he cursed at her with words never uttered before, as he drove all his anger into her with his fists. He screamed words of worthlessness and hatred towards her, each syllable causing more pain than the rampant blows to her body.
When his energy was finally spent, he sunk to the floor in a tearful heap, begging for her forgiveness. She stared down at the pathetic man her husband had become and sighed. She knew if she wanted to get out, she would have to forgive him, console him. She whispered words of forgiveness to him as she helped him to their room. He was soon fast asleep. Knowing she couldn't be gone long, she hurriedly made her way out the front door and into the forest.
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