24
Eric barely left my side for the rest of the week. Fortunately, he didn’t hit me anymore. But he still hurt me. With his strong grip when pulling, pushing, squeezing, or simply touching, his harsh words, his gestures, his looks, and his threats.
Mostly the threats.
The worst moment was when he caught me trying to feed Argus one evening.
“Strawberries for the broken horse? Are you crazy?”
I placed the handful of strawberries on the stall’s lazy Susan and turned to Eric. “I think he likes them.”
“Who cares?” He stared at Argus. “You shouldn’t have brought this animal here in the first place.”
“I didn’t bring him here. Animal control did.” He should have known this, because I had told him before, but apparently, lunatics were self-centered.
“Same thing.” His face twisted in disgust
