The hospital room was sterile and cold, the kind of place where time seemed to stretch and contracts. I lay there, the rhythmic beeping of the machines a constant reminder of my fragile state. The officer’s question lingered in the air like an unwanted echo: “Do you want to press charges?”
I glanced at my leg, encased in plaster, the pain a dull throb. The memory of the fall replayed in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. Daniel had always had a temper, but I never thought it would escalate to this. The man I married, who I believed would protect me, had instead become the source of my fear.
But that wasn’t the immediate problem. Lorna, with her iron-willed presence, loomed large. Her words echoed just as loudly as Daniel’s push, “If you’d just listened, this wouldn’t have happened!” They had painted themselves as victims, I realized, both convinced of their entitlement to my fortune.
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