He told me just to stop and take a breath. As if my drowning was by choice.
I keep two birds locked in a golden cage, atop the kitchen counter in a dusty, musty house. The paint is peeling, the floorboards are gone, blood streaks the walls, and the two birds stare at me from the confines of their golden cage.
I think someone tried to break me.
I mean, look at the scratches on these bolts here.
Rachel broke my heart. Her husband broke my knees.