I crawl out of bed on unsteady legs. I've only gotten up to use the bathroom when it was absolutely necessary and I haven't eaten solid food in days. That needs to change. I turn at the bathroom door and look at Cori. The bed is calling me back, the covers need me underneath them. Her expression, showing once more the horror of what we've been through, helps with the determination I need to be strong. I close the bathroom door behind me.
The shower is redeeming. I scrub every inch of my body and walk out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around me. Cori is no longer in the room, but my husband is; he's standing in front of the closed bedroom door.
I walk straight into his arms. My wall. My heart. The air I breathe. My source of stability in this f****d up life. He's all those thi
