“Okay, Martha, deep breaths, deep breaths.” The small part of her mind which is still thinking rationally repeats this like a mantra. “Deep breaths Martha, deep breaths.” But the words fell on deaf ears, as she feels the all too familiar tightness in her throat, as the memories bubble up inside, constricting her airways. She hates the way that even though they have separated, she can still feel his rough hands against her neck, and hear the hateful words he spoke. “Deep breaths Martha, deep breaths.” She recites the phrase the way she once had done in the home they shared, the hospital rooms he’d put her in, the dark streets she took to for escape, and in the courtroom where, for the first time with him, she had won. “Deep breaths Martha, deep breaths.”