The Mercy

I know there are women out there making better choices. Women who spend their time and money on Pilates, home decor, foreign language courses, European vacations, a decent wardrobe, pool parties, creative writing seminars, charity balls, and beach houses. Women who have undamaged skin and bones without lumps from healed fractures. They aren’t required to work sixty hours a week to pay horse expenses, nor do they jolt awake in the middle of the night picturing themselves splattered all over a colossal silver wall, their blood mingled with the crimson silhouettes of the Ferrari stallion.
I hope they choke.