ManyWriters

In the eighth month of pregnancy, my water broke.
I endured the severe pain and begged my husband Dashiell to take me to the hospital.
He pushed me away: "I'm in a work meeting, I don't have time to watch you act!"
But in his computer video, it was clearly his white moonlight's face.
I was in so much pain that I couldn't speak, and I begged him desperately. During the struggle, the ice sculpture on the table suddenly shattered to the ground.
After a silence, Dashiell grabbed my hair and threw me into the fish pond full of ice.
"Didn't you say you were going to give birth? Give birth here!"
"If the ice sculpture is broken, you and the child will pay together!"
I lost consciousness in the freezing cold water, and the blood dyed the pond crimson. When I was covered with frost and was about to become an ice sculpture, Dashiell finally fished me out with a fishing net.
He kicked me in the face: "When we got married, I told you that I don't like jealous women!"
Later I learned that the broken ice sculpture was a gift from his white moonlight.
I and the baby in my belly were his frozen toys to vent his anger.

My Husband Froze Me and Our Child into Works of Art

With a gentle touch, I opened the cabinet door and retrieved the now-yellowed letter.


I placed the divorce agreement inside the cabinet.


If there's no love left, what's the point in staying?


As I pushed open the door to my parents' house, a cloud of dust rushed to greet me.


The musty smell of decay and the tightly shut doors seemed to whisper relentlessly:


I buried myself in cleaning the room, folding the bedding for my parents as I did every year, and prepared Mom's favorite sweet and sour salmon and Dad's preferred bar snacks. After two solid hours of busying myself, I sat at the table with no appetite whatsoever.


Chapter 6