“If he did this to you,” the cop with the notepad said, indicating to my face, “why didn’t you report him? He would’ve been picked up and put away.” “And what?” I asked rhetorically. “Make him so mad that the next time he sees me, he belts the ever-loving shit outta me? Or kills me? You’ve never lived with a violent alcoholic, have you?” The cop didn’t answer. I didn’t expect him to. I glared at him. “Don’t blame the victim for just tryin’ to survive.”
