And swelled and opened, pregnant with the flood, . It rained and rained. The river swallowed the livestock first. Its belly grew. Still hungry, it ate...the crops. And still it swelled. She too had been swollen, heavy with her ninth child. Marty, her third husband, dear sweet Marty, had fought the river. And she by his side had fought, too, filling and toting sand bags for several days without stop, battling to keep the river from the house. The river ate and ate at the levee, devouring it nearly. He had this stick that he would use to correct my positioning. It wasn’t a little lift here with it, but rather, he’d hit the incorrectly positioned part of my body with that stick so hard that it hurt. I was almost always covered with bruises. For hours and hours every day without exception, I had to practice. He’d correct every little mistake with a painful reminder that I was not doing it correctly.“I hated him. I don’t know how many times I fell asleep thinking about how I would kill him. More

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