Chapter 7
4% L
Seven days in the hospital. Not a single fucking message from Marcus.
Now I’m fucking nothing to him, less than some random asshole off the street— and I’m his damn wife! I carried his kid, lost it, gave him every damn piece of me, night after fucking night. All that shit he did to me? Fucking worthless now.
Ray’s Instagram feed is like a porn channel of their beach getaway. Every scroll
makes me sicker.
The latest post nearly makes me hurl. She’s sprawled out on the sand, barely–there bikini top yanked half–off, one tit spilling out while she’s straddling him. Marcus is flat on his back, grinning like a smug bastard, hands digging into her hips so hard
you can see the red marks. Her ass is grinding down on him, waves crashing behind them like some over–the–top porno backdrop.
Then there’s this other shot–her on her knees in the shallow water, hair dripping
wet, sucking on his fingers while he’s got his other hand shoved down her bikini
bottom. You can tell he’s loving it, that filthy smirk plastered on his face—the same one he used to flash me when I was the one naked under him. They’re so into it, I swear the tide’s jealous.
Another pic catches them stumbling out of the waves–she’s half–collapsed on him, legs shaking like he just fucked her senseless right there in the surf. His shorts are hanging off his hips, soaked and sagging, showing that line of hair trailing down to his dick. He’s got her slammed up against a jagged rock, mouth locked on hers,
tongue shoving deep while he’s pulling her hair back with one fist. The other hand’s clawing at her tits, squeezing like he’s staking his claim on every fucking
inch of her.
He’s been parading his “little sister” all over that coast. Bet they’re dragging their horny, sunburnt selves back today.
I close the app, sick of their public foreplay. Wonder if he’ll still be all over her
when he finds out what she really is?
The moment the nurse okays my discharge, I’m on the phone with the cops.
