A true story about survival, faith, and courage to start over. When I came to Brazil nineteen years ago to be a missionary and a pastor, I never imagined that my husband would be the one to kill me. Luiz Medeiros, the highest-ranking colonel in the Brazilian military, thrust the cold blade of his hunting knife deep against my neck as he spoke. "Why are you so fucking defiant?" His sweltering breath riveted me to the wall and shattered my hope. "This is all your fault. You know that, right?" My heart pounded in my ears; my throat itched as I struggled to breathe. For my children, I mumbled a lie. "Yes, I know it's my fault. I'm sorry." Perspiration slithered into the corner of my eye, making it sting. "Please, give me another chance. I'll never question you again." Luiz released the knife and stepped back. "Never again?" My broken phone was useless; my credit cards, canceled. With no money for food, rent, or passports, I was trapped 5,000 miles away from Kansas--a sanctuary I called home. Yet, I eyed a small green suitcase in the corner of the bedroom. We could escape that night and live off the grid. We probably wouldn't make it all the way home, but we'd get close. A shy grin parted my lips. " Never again."
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