Too Late To Beg: My Suffocated Heart

“I sold my late mother's only estate and starved myself working three grueling jobs just to pay off my fiancé's massive gambling debts to the Syndicate. But when our car was stuck at a scorching, hundred-degree highway checkpoint, Julian gave the last bottle of cold water to his delicate mistress, Chloe. When I gasped for air and begged him to turn up the AC because of my severe asthma, he simply pulled the keys from the ignition and locked the doors from the outside. "Chloe can't stand the heat," he said coldly through the glass. "You can stay in there and reflect on your attitude." I pounded frantically on the window as the suffocating heat instantly triggered my asthma. "Julian... open the door... I can't breathe..." Outside, Chloe took a slow sip of the cold water, pointing at my struggling figure with a sweet, mocking giggle. "Look at her, Julian. She's still faking it." Julian rolled his eyes, his face twisting with deep annoyance. "Stop acting! You're just throwing a tantrum because I let her sit in the front seat. I've spoiled you too much." To show off his ruthless authority to the low-level cronies around him, he grabbed a sunshade and completely sealed off the windshield. "Let her roast in there until she cures that pathetic habit of faking illness for attention," he sneered, wrapping his arm around Chloe's waist and walking away toward the shaded rest area. The 160-degree cabin quickly turned into my blazing coffin. My vision blurred as my throat closed completely. Just a few feet away in the cool shade, Julian was laughing with Chloe, casually telling his cronies that he would unlock the door once I cried and begged for his mercy. He had no idea that the woman he left to "roast" was already a stiff, purple corpse.”