“Everything about my married life makes me sick. Whether it’s the sticky feeling of the drug I put in my husband’s milk every morning, the jammed crossbow I set on the upstairs stairs, the revolver under my pillow that turns out to be empty when I try to shoot the monster next to me, or the sudden malfunctioning gas igniter that explodes when I’m out grocery shopping while my husband is still asleep early in the morning…” Bai Wei sat quietly across from the counselor, picking at his fingers.



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