He Spent a Year Paying a Doctor to Write Down a Fragile, Unstable Version of Me That Didn’t Exist — So When He Finally Set Me Aside, the Whole World Would Believe I’d Simply Come Apart on My Own

And when the prosecutor asked whether she had known what Christian planned to do to remove me from the wedding, she broke.

“He told me he would handle it,” she wept.

“That he’d take care of it permanently.” “Did you ask how?” the prosecutor said.

The courtroom went very quiet.

“No,” Sabrina whispered.

“Why not?” “Because I was afraid of the answer.” That sentence has stayed with me ever since.

To choose not to know, when knowing would demand something of you, is its own quiet way of taking part.

Sabrina had not built my cage.