Chapter 1

May 1986 – a Detroit suburb

I sit on a slab of cracked cement near the driveway, allowing the late afternoon sun to dry my tears. The first two weeks of marriage should be blissful. Happy. Not the beginning of a life sentence. I ache for the comfort of a loving husband. A gentle touch, a hug. Anything.

He bursts out the door and stops short when he sees me. His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to think of something else to argue about.

I try to smile, but my emotions refuse to betray me.

He huffs a breath and strolls to the curbside mailbox in the shade of the tall maple. Scores of sparrows chatter like an army of squeaky wheels. Returning with a stack of mail, his brows draw close together as he examines a manila envelope. “Why is my wife getting mail from another man?”

He says wife as if it’s some sort of disease.

I rush to his side, and the air disappears from my lungs when I recognize the handwriting. No. Not now. Not today. I grab the envelope. “That’s addressed to me.”

It slips through my fingers as he holds it beyond my reach and drops the rest of the mail. “You’re not Julia Sebastian anymore.”

My shaky hands grip his arm, pulling with all my strength. “Give me that envelope.”

He jerks his arm from my grasp, causing me to fall hard onto the ground, then looks down his nose and smirks. “Well, aren’t you all worked up in a tizzy.”

I dust the dirt from my aching thigh and glare at him. Fine. Maybe if he reads another man’s expression of undying love for me, he’ll snap out of this awful behavior. Things can’t go on like this.

He rips open the envelope. His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare as he grabs my arm and yanks me to his side. His fingers dig into my skin. “What is this?” he says through clenched teeth.

My eyes fall onto a photo proof sheet, and a stabbing pain rips through my body. My knees weaken. I don’t understand. Those pictures were destroyed a long time ago. “I … I’m sorry. Please—”

“You … you’re nothing but a—” His eyes grow wild as he shoves me away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

My mind races, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. “Those … that … that was before we met.”

Life drains from his dark eyes, and his finger hovers inches from my face. “I never should’ve married a girl like you.”

***

Caution! Regarding the novel My Name is Julia

Content Warning: This book is intended for a Mature Audience. It contains animal cruelty/animal death, criminal court and jail, criminal sexual conduct, drug & underage alcohol use, gaslighting, infertility, narcissistic behavior, potentially offensive language, physical injuries, and self-harm.

Trigger Warning: This book includes domestic abuse & violence, including spiritual, emotional, physical, & verbal abuse.

If you want to find out what happens next, please help me get this book published! Invite others to read these pages, to subscribe to my newsletter, and to engage with me on social media.

Click here to subscribe to my newsletter: https://www.loisalan.com/contact/

You can also follow me on social media by clicking the links at the bottom of this page.

Thank you for your support! 😊