The story is already written but the suspense remains

Far away in her mind, time creates gaps to a moment of passage that may or may not come. Because time can't give away that eternal clue as to what fate or outcome will bring. Faith and trust have become oblivious in the lump of her throat. She is still planning ahead, planning her escape. She knows it is time to leave. Stability? What is that? Her tears were salty wounds upon her skin when he left. The third element of her family gone now that she was left alone with her son. Between his moody interplays of gamiing, all was gone. He chastised her but never looked in the mirror at his own tunnel indulged life. God was as far from him as a broken apple core at the platter of Satan's palate. She was an errand boy to his needs, not always being able to fulfill them. .....The ax came today, her refuge cut out with printed words on the letter. the escape hatch now plunged down her throat like a menacing sentence that cut into her interior bloodline, her masqued identity, her alter ego. No more visits to that place of addiction. The door was closed. The grimacing smile of the gambling counselor's satisfaction paralleled the loss of choice in her own life. That kernel of rebellion erased unless she drove 98 miles to the other casino. Then it would be an inconvenience, no longer a diversion on her way home from whatever. The lifestyle gone, vanished. The family gone. The son not fully there. Yes, it was time to leave. She would make it happen.