Looking at the bruised, battered woman before her, Rachel shook her head. This job was so hard. So many women hurting, so many women in denial.
"I just need someone to talk to. He won't do it again."
"It's my fault. I shouldn't have laughed/cried/shouted/burnt supper."
"He doesn't know his own strength."
"He gets so mad when he's woken up. I should have kept the baby quiet."
She wanted to shake the woman. Instead, she cried with her. She understood, all too well. Her baby would have been ten years old now. Oh, how she missed him.