Chapter 4
While changing my bandages, the nurse mentions the garage. ‘Those cameras?‘ she shakes her head. ‘Been broken all week. No one’s bothered fixing them.‘
Perfect timing for Ray’s little ‘accident‘, isn’t it?
“Please try not to move,” the nurse says.
She lifts the gauze and I have to bite back a scream. The bloody bandage rips away from my wound like it’s tearing my flesh apart.
Half an hour later, I’m lying there, numb, when I hear Marcus outside:
“Go see her if you want. I can’t stand to look at her face – she’ll just start more shit.
I’ll wait here.”
The door swings open and there’s Ray, strutting in like she owns the place. That tiny bandage on her finger might as well be a victory flag. Her perfect makeup, the way her shirt’s unbuttoned just low enough – everything screams “I just had your
husband’s hands all over me.”
She actually has the nerve to come gloating. Here I am, pale as death, looking like absolute hell, completely exposed to this murderous bitch who killed my baby.
Pure rage makes my whole body shake.
“You fucking snake! Come to see your handiwork? Get the hell out before I kill you myself!” I force myself up, ignoring the searing pain, and whip my pillow at her
face as hard as I can.
The violent movement tears my wound open. Fresh blood soaks through the
bandage instantly.
Ray’s face crumples. Her eyes fill with fake tears and she runs out like the coward
she is.
“You dare scream at her?” Marcus shouts from outside. “That’s fucking it! Get back
here and apologize to her right now!”
He storms halfway through the door, face twisted with rage. But Ray stops him, pressing herself against his chest with practiced ease. “No, baby, don’t…..please….. I don’t want you fighting because of me…“” she whimpers, all breathy and soft now. Her hands slide up his arms as she looks up at him through wet lashes. “I probably
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shouldn’t have come… it’s just…” she sniffs delicately, “I missed you so much after this morning…”
The fury drains from his face as she works her magic. She might be crying, but her body tells a different story – hips pressed into his, fingers tracing patterns on his chest, head tilted just right to show off her neck. Every move screams “fuck me,”
not “comfort me.” And she makes damn sure I can see it all.
Their voices fade as they leave. I collapse back, completely hollow. One more step and he would have seen the truth. Seen what she did to me.
But no. He turns his back without hesitation, choosing her again.
He couldn’t even be bothered to look at my medical file.
Love versus contempt – it couldn’t be more obvious.
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