Stanley had become used to the abuse doled out by his wife of thirty-seven years. A lashing of the legs with a belt for being late picking her up from bingo; a cigarette burn on the arm when he overcooked dinner.
But he'd never left her - not even during the string of one-night stands she'd entertained on their marital bed.
But even Stanley felt she'd gone too far this time: she'd secured him to the kitchen floor with nails in his hands and feet, laughing at his screams.
At least he'd never forget to buy the milk again.