My Husband Said the Funeral Van Would Take Me to a Clinic—Then a Loose White Cord Gave Me a Chance to Get Out

“We need her in the back box for the final stretch,” he said.

“There could be a checkpoint by the bridge.”

The sentence reached me in pieces.

The box.

The bridge.

A reason to hide me rather than take me to somebody who could help.

“David, no.”

He was already opening his door.