Chapter 9 - The Arrogance of Power
|
Another massive cramp bent me entirely over, forcing my forehead against the cold floor. I tried to drag my body toward the shattered remains of my phone, desperately hoping the emergency SOS feature might still function if I blindly squeezed the side buttons.
But Carter stepped directly into my path, his expensive leather shoes blocking my view of the broken device. He crouched down, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. He leaned in so close I could smell the seasoned meat and red wine on his breath.
"Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little girl," Carter hissed, his eyes wide and completely unhinged. "You think anyone is going to help you? My uncle is a senior prosecutor in the District Attorney’s office. I am a practicing corporate attorney with connections all over this state."
He tightened his grip on my hair, making me whimper in pain.
"If you try to tell anyone that we pushed you, I will completely bury you," he threatened. "I will tell the hospital you fell down the stairs because you were hysterical. I will have you committed to a psychiatric ward. You are not going to win a damn thing. You belong to us."
May you like
For two grueling years, I had endured this exact rhetoric. I had endured his screaming, his impossible demands, and his mother’s daily psychological humiliations. I had served their dinners and eaten last. I had listened silently while they called my family simple, uneducated, and blue-collar because I wanted a normal life—a life built on my own merits, not on my father’s quiet, hidden influence.
But as I lay bleeding on the floor, feeling my unborn son fighting for his life inside me, something inside my soul finally snapped.
