He gives me clear instructions on what to pack, including the dress I wore when we stayed out at his cabin, some jeans, t-shirts and hiking boots. I�...m curious what he has planned for the weekend but am also excited to let him take charge. The need to plan and control everything begins to ebb as the newly familiar feelings of passivity and acceptance flow in. After we get off the phone, I use the bathroom, clean up, then retrieve my bag of toys. I pull out the three plugs, but look longingly at. He spoke in our native Armenian, English never allowed in this house. “Have you put a spell on me? Are you a witch?”I swelled. I had power. My daughter clasped her hands before her, her eyes so wide. They were filled with... hope. A smile crossed her lips. My son stood, his chair squeaking back. He drew in a few deep breaths, his handsome face flicking for a moment through fear. Then he swallowed it. Shaking, he marched around the table.“What have you done to him, Mother?” he said, trying to be. More

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