The Final Straw: Choosing Divorce Over Misery

The internet was flooded with accusations of me being shameless and us being adulterers.

Peter showed me the messages on his phone one by one.

I couldn’t move my body, but I was conscious. I explained it to him over and over again, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he took a thin wire and walked towards me.

Under my terrified gaze, he walked to the end of the bed and pulled my feet down halfway.

Then he came up to me, stepped on my hair on the bed, and tightly clamped my head with his legs.

He poked my lips with the wire. When I opened my mouth out of pain, he pulled out my tongue and quickly folded it in half, winding it around with the wire.

I will never forget my screaming and his smile when he wiped the blood from the corners of my mouth.

“Be good. I believe that you haven’t cheated.”

“Of course, I will take good care of you!”

“But before that, you have to be silent.”

From then on, Peter presented himself as a loyal man to his cheating wife.

Setting up the camera, he tearfully begged me not to give up on myself, not to hurt myself anymore, and not to do anything self-destructive.

In the video he took, he carefully washed every toe for me, but no one knew that only my feet and head were in good condition.

After he turned off the camera, my back, buttocks, and any part of my body that touched the bed were covered in unhealed bedsores.

My lower body was rotten and smelly. Only when someone came to interview me would Peter wear a mask and gloves to scrub me vigorously with steel wool.

Even worse, Peter had sex in front of me with another woman whom I knew best.

Through their conversation, I learned that Peter had already cheated on me long ago!