When His Love Became My Torture

Anders

gnited a spark of hope, quickly extinguished by the cold dread of what that hope might cost me again. My h

at, carefully devoid of any emoti

said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Probably just a stray thought. You always did have a knack for getting inside my he

that new exhibition. I' m utterly bored with all this... gallery maintenance." She yawned dramatically, he

deep exhaustion that went beyond physical pain. My head still throbbe

lie Pennington, swept in, an entourage of stiff-backed formality and disdain.

s if she were a long-lost daughter. "You look absolutely radiant. And E

ike a dismissal. "Addison. Still here, I see. One would think you'd have found a mo

eir pristine lineage. Their contempt was a constant, sharp prick. I had married into this f

mily now, I thought you should have this. It's been in the Pennington family for generations. A symbol of our enduring

y wedding day. The one that was supposed to be passed down to the Pennington wife. My f

ngton! It's utterly divine! I... I don't know what to say!" Her

necklace was not just jewelry; it was a symbol of belonging, of acceptance. And

eserve it. Unlike some, you truly understand the value of family." Her eyes flickered to me, a cold accusation. "You n

tright hostility. They blamed me for Ethan's accident, for his memory lo

y. It's simply dreadful. Addison has made such a mess." She held the phone slightly away, allowing a child's voi

en say the darndest things," she purred, but he

ned the children against us." She then lowered her voice, but it was still audible.

. A blight on this family." She raised her hand, and before I could react, she slapped me h

stood there, unmoving, feeling nothing but a dull numbness spread

hat's enough," he said, his voice surprisingly firm. He looked at me, his eyes momentarily softening as they landed on the fresh bruise forming on

pe. "Excuse me," I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper, and dashed for the back exi

ain. This time, it was a confirmation from my lawyer.

d echoed in my mind, a sweet melody after five years of discordant noise. My

plan. A pre-arranged car waited two blocks away. A priva

a small, shrill voice pierc

behind a dumpster, their faces twisted with childis

his face red with manufactured ange

tic water gun, pointed it at me. "Yeah!

children. "Lily, Leo, please," I pleaded

elled, bloc

ed the trigger of her water gun. A thin, clear st

tools of my trade, felt like they were dissolving. The pain was instantaneous, excruciating, a thousand tiny

ent faces contorted into grotesque masks of glee

ny in my hands consuming everything. This wasn't water. This was acid. This was

and evil, was the last sound I heard b