Chapter 2 - The Grieving Husband
I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending that the heavy pain medication was making me drowsy and confused.
My husband stroked my hair with the exact same hands that had violently shoved me off a cliff hours ago.
He softly told me that he was arranging private transport to take me home to recover in absolute peace.
Going back to our isolated suburban house with him was a guaranteed, undeniable death sentence.
I forced a weak, loving smile and thanked him for being such a devoted and caring husband.
He kissed my forehead gently, promising to return in a few hours with all the necessary discharge papers.
As soon as he stepped out into the busy hallway, my mind began racing desperately for a way out.
I reached across the white bedsheets and repeatedly pressed the red emergency call button for the nursing staff.
A young woman in blue scrubs rushed into the room a few moments later, looking highly concerned.
I begged her to let me use her personal cell phone to make an urgent, private phone call.
She hesitated, clearly confused by the strange request, but eventually pulled the device from her pocket.
I frantically dialed the only person in the entire world I could actually trust with my life.
My younger sister, Claire, answered on the second ring with a cheerful, familiar greeting.
I quickly explained everything to her in a frantic, panicked whisper, begging her to come to the hospital.
Claire told me to stay perfectly still and promised to drive over and get me immediately.
I handed the phone back to the bewildered nurse with a profound, overwhelming sense of relief.
I closed my eyes and finally allowed myself to feel a tiny sliver of hope in the darkness.
Then the door swung open, and Daniel walked back in with a dark, twisted grin on his face.
May you like
He held up his own cell phone, tapping the cracked screen with a cruel, mocking rhythm.
"Claire says hello, and she strongly suggested I give you an extra dose of painkillers," he whispered.
