Love and Hate Turned to Nothing, We Each Went Our Own Way

After my eighteenth miscarriage, the story of me giving birth in that delivery room, bloodied and broken, spread through every corner of town.

That same night, my husband finally reached his limit and threw me out of the house.

The next day, he brought his childhood sweetheart, Constance Henson, home as his bride.

Eight years and not one child to show for it, and when they cast me out all I had was a torn shift soaked in blood.

Buried under the town's endless mocking, I lost every reason to keep living.

So I climbed to the hospital rooftop, ready to end my life.