Her protests, once again, fell on deaf ears. She left his office moving stiffly. Her spirit had become a battleground of emotions: anger, fear, despai..., helplessness, and a strong desire to lash out at someone. She sat at her desk fuming.That afternoon, the harassing telephone calls began. Some were relatively benign with women telling her that she had better act right or else. Some were threatening. She didn’t recognize any of the voices. It was so bad that by the end of the day she didn’t. The house was quiet, no one else was living there besides her and her husband since the c***dren had been grown and moved out some time ago.I climbed the stairs and made my way to the bedroom. I entered and Mrs June was sitting on the bed in a night gown, hand clinched over her breast holding her night gown closed. "Slide it over to where I've cleaned that space young man, to the left." I did as asked, lifting and sliding. It was rather easy, easy enough the she possibly could have moved it. More

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