Robert stared at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling. Farrel lay silently next to him. He was tense, and she knew a battle was raging within him to keep his temper in check. She was so tired—not physically, but mentally. She couldn’t take much more and realized that at any moment she would snap, and that would be the end. Her nerves were a twisted, mangled mass of frustrations, but she still clung to one hope. The hope that the marriage counselor would shed some light on how she could help her husband to help himself and how they could hopefully work together to become a normal family. Still, a major part of her recognized that she shouldn’t get her hopes too high. Every time she did, Robert pulled the rug out from under her. This time she wouldn’t allow it.
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