25

I woke up with a sore throat, my wrists feeling pressured by a force unrecognizable until the darkness suddenly faded. My liability, my lover, my villain, my husband stood in front of me under a dim light bulb attached to the roof of the room. I cried in pain when he suddenly slapped me, but my cry was not heard. A rope strangled my mouth as I tried to speak. A hard material wrapped around my wrists, tightening them and killing them, made me want to slice them as I simultaneously imagined ingesting the rope holding back my words.

My hair was rough and covered half my face. I moved some strands to the left just to realize their color. Blonde again. I screamed once more but he kicked me in the stomach and tears came rushing out of my eyeballs. I wanted to burn instead of suffer through this.

The materials holding back my body were tied to a pole in the far corner where I couldn't reach as it was just outside the room, right behind the door. I stared at it, hoping for mercy, hoping to find a way to escape.

He kneeled down in front of me and tilted his head. "You're a psycho, you know?" He looked right into my fearful pupils. "You really thought I'd forget what you did to me, how you tormented me my whole life."

You asshole.

"You dumb bitch," he laughed, "you're so delusional to think that I would actually love your ugly ass."

You cunt.

"Never mess with me, Madelaine." He bit his bottom lip. "Because you never mess with one of the richest men in the country, right?"

Wrong.

"This is what your end is, my wife." He looked around the small, white-tiled room with a smirk. "This is your new hell, bitch."