Chapter 3 - The Drive to Nowhere
Mark gripped my arm tight enough to leave deep purple bruises on my skin.
He forced a fake, loving smile for the passing hospital staff as he guided me toward a waiting wheelchair.
I did not scream or fight back because I knew he would claim I was suffering from postpartum psychosis.
He carefully placed our surviving twin into the portable car seat, securing the straps with chilling precision.
We rolled out into the hospital parking garage, and he helped me into the passenger seat of his dark SUV.
I remained completely silent, clutching my purse where my phone was safely hidden.
I needed to play along with his twisted game until I found the perfect moment to escape with my child.
Mark started the engine and drove out of the city, humming a cheerful tune under his breath.
I stared out the window, carefully watching the passing street signs blur together.
It only took fifteen minutes to realize we were not heading toward our suburban neighborhood.
He had bypassed the main highway and turned onto a desolate, winding road leading into the dense mountains.
I gathered every ounce of courage I had left and asked him where we were going.
Mark kept his eyes perfectly fixed on the empty road ahead of us.
He calmly stated that he had rented a secluded cabin so we could grieve in absolute peace.
I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard, realizing we were driving miles away from any cell phone towers.
I reached for the door handle, but a loud mechanical click echoed through the vehicle.
Mark had just engaged the child safety locks from the driver's seat.
He abruptly pulled the heavy vehicle over onto the shoulder of a deserted dirt road surrounded by thick pine trees.
He turned off the engine, plunging the car into an eerie, suffocating silence.
I backed against the passenger door, my breathing shallow and rapid.
Mark reached into the deep pocket of his dark winter jacket.
He slowly pulled out a medical syringe filled with a cloudy, yellow liquid.
May you like
He turned to face me, his eyes completely devoid of any human emotion.
"This will help you sleep through the worst of your grief," he whispered.
