“The orthopedic surgeon explicitly said I cannot put an ounce of weight on this leg for six weeks,” I replied, my knuckles turning white around the rubber grips of the crutches. “I need my bed.”
“And I said, move,” she hissed.
I squared my shoulders, tightening my grip. “This is my house, Margaret. My grandmother left it to me. You are a guest.”
Her pale blue eyes flashed with a sudden, violent malice.
Before I could register the shift in her posture, her velvet slipper swept sideways in a vicious, practiced arc. It struck the base of my right crutch. The aluminum pole flew out from under my arm, clattering wildly across the floor.
My body twisted as it fell. The hardwood came up hard and fast. My injured leg contorted beneath my weight, sending a blinding shockwave of fire shooting from my hip straight down to my ankle. I screamed so loudly I tasted copper in the back of my throat. The pain was absolute, eclipsing my vision with bursts of dark static.
Harrison finally moved.
Through the blur of tears and agony, I reached a trembling hand toward him, expecting the man I loved to fall to his knees and help me.
He didn’t.
He grabbed me by the throat.
His fingers pressed firmly just beneath my jawline. His gold wedding ring was freezing against my flushed skin. He leaned down, his face entirely devoid of the warmth I had known for half a decade, until his breath tickled my ear.
“Mom wants the master bedroom, Eleanor,” he whispered, his voice devoid of any human empathy. “So you’re sleeping in the garage.”
For a terrible, breathless second, the excruciating pain in my leg was replaced by a profound, hollow silence. It wasn’t because the physical agony had stopped. It was because something fundamental and irreplaceable inside my soul had just died.
Margaret laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that echoed off the high ceilings. “Look at her, Harrison. Staring at you like a betrayed dog. She still actually thinks she matters.”
They didn’t give me time to process the betrayal. They grabbed me by the fabric of my sweater, one on each arm, and dragged me across the hallway floor. My heavy cast bumped violently against the doorframe of the kitchen, and a fresh wave of nausea washed over me. I nearly blacked out. Harrison kept his face turned away, unable to meet my eyes. Margaret, however, didn’t look away once. She watched my face, seemingly savoring every sharp gasp of pain that escaped my lips.
