Chapter 1 - The Kitchen Floor
The freezing hardwood floor pressed against my cheek as Liam’s frantic voice echoed above me.
He was pacing the length of our beautiful kitchen, his expensive dress shoes clicking sharply against the imported tile.
"Yes, she just collapsed and hit her head on the marble counter!" he yelled into his cell phone.
He was lying to the emergency dispatcher with the same effortless, sickening charm he always used to woo my parents.
Blood was pooling slowly near my right eye, obscuring my vision in a hazy, terrifying crimson blur.
I desperately tried to move my fingers, wanting to reach out and scream the truth, but my shocked body refused to obey.
Liam knelt beside me, covering the phone's microphone with his heavy hand as he leaned in incredibly close to my ear.
"If you tell them what really happened, Emily, I swear I will make sure you lose your nursing license forever."
His whisper was completely devoid of the panic he was faking for the 911 operator just a single second ago.
I closed my eyes, letting the crushing darkness take over as the distant wail of sirens pierced the cold Portland night.
I woke up hours later in a sterile, painfully bright hospital room, surrounded by the familiar scent of strong antiseptic.
A kind-faced emergency doctor was standing at the foot of my bed, reviewing my medical chart with a deeply concerned expression.
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Liam was sitting in the corner chair, holding my cold hand and weeping softly like the perfect, absolutely devastated husband.
I looked at the doctor, my throat dry and burning, knowing I was completely trapped in a nightmare with no easy exit.
