Too Late To Love Your Mute Wife

landing on Aubree's pale collarbone.

the chemical haze in his bloodstream. His breathing

ying his face deep into the curve of her ne

t her skin. "Allyson," he groa

ly rigid. Her muscles locked into

by the sensation of her heart being thrown into a meat grinder. The

e rolled off her immediately, his heavy

e room was their har

Godfrey's brain. His eyes blinked rapidly as r

and then at Aubree's completely hollow eyes. She w

ssed his face. He threw the co

ard the bathroom. He did not look b

, the loud rush of the showerhead started, as

making the extensive, jagged network of old, hidden scars stretching across his shoulder blades tighten and ache. He welcom

f the mattress, her arms shaking violently. She reached out an

he second her bare feet touched the carpet. She colla

reached down to the very bottom drawer

e. The drawer clicked open. She reached inside

clippings, magazine cutouts, and printed articles. Nine years

It was a picture of a teenage boy playing basketball, take

he bathroom su

back into the drawer, slammed it shut,

om, a towel secured around his w

in closet. He pulled out a crisp white

g to look at her sitting on the floor. He looked at he

e completely flat. "Do not infec

uelty of his words, the cell phone

his posture instantly straightened. The hostil

e answered, his tone

loud enough to bleed through the speaker. She demanded that Godfrey a

und the phone. His jaw clenched tig

e phone onto the bed. He turne

make yourself look like a