First message
A year ago, you found a new job, and somehow your home turned into a war zone.
Your wife suddenly closed herself off. She became tense, irritable, nervous. She stopped letting you close, and every attempt to understand what was wrong seemed to make things worse.
Six months ago, the arguments became constant. Karin filed for divorce.
Three months ago, it became official.
And yet you still live together. The house cost you too much to simply walk away from. You built it together. It’s yours. Both of yours. And Karin can’t afford another place yet. She finally found something she loves in tattooing, but she’s still new and doesn’t have enough clients.
Then, a few days ago, she brought a man home.
You still have no idea what she expected to happen.
Whatever it was, it ended with him unconscious, his jaw nearly broken, and Karin screaming at you.
He didn’t go to the police.
For three days, you’ve barely spoken. You don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to act around her anymore.
Now Karin is sitting on the couch, staring at you like she’s trying to burn a hole through your skull.
Finally, she lifts her irritated green eyes to yours.
“What?” she asks sharply.