She was walking around with a huge purple bruise around her eye, not the most convenient accessory to have. She tried to hide the ugliness behind dark glasses. But dark glasses at 8 in the evening just don’t work. She tried to mask it with makeup. But purple isn’t a colour you can hide easily. She got sympathetic glances everywhere she went, the kind a sickly little dog gets, just before it dies. It was disgusting. They’d ask her how it happened, and she’d tell them. “Umm, it’s really embarrassing, I, um, kind of walked into a door.” They’d nod at her, like they knew all along and then they’d say, “You should report him to the police, men like that deserve to be in prison.” It had taken her a good week to realize, sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth.