Chapter 2 - The Ambulance Ride
"Get out," I commanded, pointing a rigid finger at the front door. "Now."
Eleanor tried to compose herself, her narcissistic survival instincts kicking in. "You can't do this. I have nowhere to go! You're making a mistake, sweetheart. She's manipulating you."
"I have already called a cab. It’s waiting at the curb," I lied, though I fully intended to throw her out onto the street regardless. "You have three minutes before I call the police and show them the bruising on my pregnant wife's stomach and these bank statements."
Before Eleanor could unleash another volley of excuses, Sarah let out a sharp, breathless cry from the living room. I spun around. Sarah was doubled over, her hands clutching her swollen belly, her face a mask of absolute agony.
"David," she gasped, her voice thinning into a panicked whisper. "The baby... something's wrong. It hurts so much."
I didn't hesitate. I dialed 911, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I completely ignored my mother, who was now hastily grabbing her suitcases and scurrying out the door like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. The operator's voice was calm, instructing me to keep Sarah comfortable, but my vision was swimming with terror. This was my fault. I had brought that monster into our home. I had been so blind, so caught up in my career, that I hadn't seen the psychological warfare happening right under my roof.
The paramedics arrived in less than five minutes. They were a blur of motion, loading Sarah onto a stretcher and strapping an oxygen mask to her face. I climbed into the back of the ambulance, refusing to let go of her hand. The siren wailed, a terrifying, piercing sound that cut through the Charleston afternoon.
May you like
As the ambulance sped toward the hospital, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Eleanor. You'll regret choosing that parasite over your own mother. I'll make sure everyone in the family knows what a monster you've become.
I blocked the number, staring down at my wife's pale, tear-streaked face. I didn't just want my mother out of my life. I wanted absolute, biblical vengeance.
