chap 1 She read parenting books.
She read parenting books.
Created schedules.
Prepared every supply we could possibly need.
Yet now the room looked as though someone had simply stopped functioning.
I looked back at Hannah.
She could barely keep her eyes open.
"How long has she been like this?"
My mother shrugged.
"A few days."
My pulse quickened.
"A few days?"
"Maybe four."
Four days.
My wife had been getting worse for four days.
And no one had called me.
No one had contacted a doctor.
No one had even considered an ambulance.
A cold, dangerous anger began building inside me.
"Hannah, why didn't you tell me?"
She lowered her eyes.
"I didn't want you to worry."
That was Hannah.
Always putting everyone else before herself.
Even while suffering.
My mother stood.
"Honestly, Ethan, she's being dramatic."
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
For the first time, something felt deeply wrong.
Not just with Hannah.
With my mother.
Patricia didn't seem worried.
She didn't seem frightened.
She seemed irritated.
As though Hannah's illness was simply an inconvenience.
Memories flooded back.
The constant criticism.
The passive-aggressive remarks.
The backhanded compliments.
Every family gathering, Patricia had found subtle ways to make Hannah feel unwelcome.
Never enough to cause a scene.
But enough to leave scars.
Standing in that room, watching my wife struggle to stay awake, I finally realized something.
Maybe I had ignored too much.
Made too many excuses.
Maybe my mother wasn't simply difficult.
Maybe she was dangerous.
I pulled out my phone.
"We're going to the hospital."
My mother immediately objected.
"For what?"
I looked directly at her.
"For the fever."
"For the weakness."
"For whatever is happening to my wife."
Patricia scoffed.
"You're wasting everyone's time."
I ignored her.
Instead, I helped Hannah to her feet.
The moment she tried to stand, her knees gave out.
She nearly collapsed.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
As I wrapped my arm around her waist, something caught my eye.
Bruises.
Dark purple bruises around her wrist.
I froze.
"Hannah..."
Her body stiffened.
Carefully, I lifted her sleeve.
The bruises continued farther up her arm.
Distinct.
May you like
Finger-shaped.
As though someone had grabbed her with incredible force.
