Each finger on your calloused hand left an imprint on my neck. I display each red indentation for the officer’s flashing camera. Are there any other injuries? I imagine grabbing the butcher’s knife from the kitchen drawer nearby, slicing myself from sternum to stomach, peeling my skin open, and pointing his camera to the six years’ worth of gouges your sharp words had carved into my insides like tally marks in a prisoner’s cell. Blowups of each and every gash would be paraded in front of the jury. You’d get ten years, easy. Your mother would cry, but not because she’s raised an abuser. She would weep because her baby boy doesn’t deserve to go to jail. Your alcoholic father would remain at home. Ten beers in. Unsurprised by who you’ve become. The officer patiently waits for the daydream to end. My vocal cords sting as the word “no,” makes its way up my sandpapered throat. Yet, the burn is simultaneously soothing. The choking may not get you ten years, but it does get me my freedom.

Thanks for the Evidence is one of three flash fiction pieces by Tess Godhardt featured in The Spring 2025 issue of The SDL Review, available online and in print.