dramatic ploys to keep him from his precious Bella. He had seen me fake injuries, exaggerate il

thready sound lost in the thick carpet. But he was already gone. The click

aming with every inch. My phone was on the dresser, a lifetime away. My fingers cla

was a weak croak as I gave the operator my address. Then I lay my

uth was delivered with clinical detachment. The d

," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "These kinds of injuries are consist

from him. From our so-called intimacy. The fights, the angry shoves against the wall, the passionate encounters that were more like

my lips. "No," I said, the word tastin

t press. She gave me painkillers and told me to

tanding outside a private room down the hall, his back to me. He was talking to Bella. But he wasn't just

in five years. The sight of it was more painful than the fractured rib. T

e would have. But the fight was gone. I was just tired. So tired. I saw the raw, un

didn't want him to see me like this, in a hospital gown, we

I approached, I heard their voices getting closer. He

ked shut behind me, plunging me into the quiet, concrete space. I leaned ag

l door opened ag

yed expression gone. It was replaced

she asked, her v

flat and emotionless. I tried to p

give up, do you?" she said, h

ide, and the impact sent a fresh wave of agony through my ribs. I ga

fight back, too sh

n them. She looked past me, up the stairs. "Mark!"

rd, tumbling down the first few steps with a theatrical cry of pai

instantly streaming down her face.