s;s abusive nature was his tragic flaw. As she had hers, he had his. There was always the promise of change, and that hope, however dim it may have been, was enough to keep her from leaving.
             Was my solution a permanent one? Obviously, for Lauren it wasn't. I desired an explanation that was lacking, and found a way to do it. It may have been the right answer; it may not have been. But it was the answer that appeased me, at least temporarily. The reactions my story garnered varied, proving that my explanation wasn't necessarily the "right" one. It was just my perspective. In his essay, "Is Nothing Sacred?," Salman Rushdie proposes that literature is not pretentious in its intention. It does not need to be worshipped, it does not need to be a definitive figure in society, and that "it claims no special rights except the right to be the stage upon which the great debates of society can be conducted" (307) Most of Rushdie's essay is spent conveying art, especially literature, as an option to be considered-nothing more and nothing less. In worshipping a piece of art, we subconsciously demean it. In assuming that a certain piece of writing has the right idea, the proper explanation, we are demeaning ourselves. To reach a resolution ends that debate, and the very purpose of art is to provide us with the ability to debate it. It is to form our own opinions but know that the answer will always remain slightly ambiguous.
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