Just 11 minutes after I returned from the hospital with a shattered femur, my mother-in-law kicked my crutches away. Ignoring my agonized screams, she and my husband dragged me into a pitch-black garage.

tightly my hands hurt. “I need my bed.”

“And I said move.”

“This is my house,” I shot back, forcing strength into my voice. “My grandfather left it to me. You are a guest.”

Something dark flashed in her eyes.

Before I could react, her slipper struck the base of my right crutch. The aluminum support flew away, skidding loudly across the foyer.

My body twisted continue reading …