Why get a job and be independent when I could just live off my husband’s money. He deserves it anyway. The hell he’s put me through, making me int... this depressed shadow of myself. I figure that it kills him everyday to know that he still has to see me, support me, and when he is home lay with me in bed. It makes my day a little better to know that I’m making him just as miserable as he has made me. I know that it probably isn’t the way to live, and I might not be so depressed if I leave him,. “You’re hired.” she said perkily, beaming at me.“Who said I was looking for a job?” I snarled.“You’re just the kind of person we’re looking for for this focus group.” she said happily. She lifted the top page on her clipboard and I heard the serrated line on a piece of paper tearing. She handed me something that looked about the size of a check. “Report to this address next Monday. We pay a hundred dollars a day.” She stood up, already looking around for another victim.“I don’t want a job.” I. More

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