Chapter 7 - A Violent Grip
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The single syllable hung in the sterile air between us, heavy and absolute.
No.
Caleb’s expression rapidly shifted from shocked disbelief to a dark, uncontrollable fury. The idea that his submissive, broken wife was openly defying him in a hospital room was completely unacceptable to his massive ego.
"What did you just say to me?" he hissed, his face leaning in dangerously close to mine.
"I said no," I repeated, my voice shaking but my gaze completely locked onto his. "Let go of me."
Instead of releasing my arm, he jerked it again, significantly harder this time. The sudden, violent movement twisted my torso, sending a crushing, nauseating wave of absolute agony directly through my fractured ribs.
I gasped loudly, my eyes rolling back for a split second as the pain threatened to pull me into unconsciousness. The digital heart monitor beside the bed instantly erupted into urgent, high-pitched alarms, the red lights flashing wildly to indicate a patient in extreme physical distress.
His name was already written in the visitor log downstairs. My strict treatment schedule had been thoroughly documented by a team of specialists. My chart clearly identified me as a highly vulnerable patient recovering from life-threatening injuries.
Yet, Caleb continued acting as though I were nothing more than an expensive, frustrating problem standing in his way.
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I looked desperately toward the open doorway. The hospital hallway still sounded strangely ordinary. A metal supply cart rolled past with a squeak. Someone laughed softly near the distant nurses’ station. A paper coffee cup sat abandoned on the wooden counter outside.
I remembered promising myself inside that ambulance that I would make it home to Emma. But I finally realized that making it home didn't mean going back to Caleb.
