She weeps in anguish at her naïve and innocent mind.

She stayed with him but that awful fight, the bruises, the wailing of her three year old child as her husband smashed a wineglass on her skull. His rancid breath torturing her and breathing down her neck.

That night she ran out onto the streets of the city with her bawling child and only a hastily packed knapsack to tide them over

Hours became days and days became months
Her face became gaunt and worn, her voice cracked as she begged on seedy street corners for money to feed her dying and worm ridden child.

This life was torturous and hard but it was at least better than the abuse she suffered at the hands of her spouse