Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I could tell by her eyes.

    They looked like mine, in the mirror.

    She had an abusive partner, like I did.

    She was my new new bus driver. I sat behind her and we talked. Every day we talked. We rarely talked about our partners. We talked about our kids, our gardens.

    Sometimes, she had a bruise or black eye.

    Sometimes, I did. Or, we both did.

    One day, I said my husband said I was asking for it, that I liked it. She said her husband said that too. I said it wasn't true. I did everything I could to avoid it. She said, "me too."

    A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

    One day, she was gone. I read in the paper she'd been killed by her husband.

    I decided to leave mine before that happened to me.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.