Chapter 3

3 Sitting alone in the room, I waited for my punishment. The thought of returning to that place snapped the tightly wound spring in my mind. I bit my wrist hard, ignoring the metallic taste of blood. It was the only way to quell my anxiety. The door burst open. I cringed, expecting Ethan’s wrath. Instead, it was Seth, his friend. When I was still in Ethan's good graces, I’d often tag along with him to see Seth. But after Ethan turned against me, Seth followed suit, mocking me to my face, calling me a shameless clingy leech. Now, his usually handsome face was twisted into a leering smirk. "Heard you were in rehab." He lunged at me, ripping at my clothes. My screams were trapped in my throat, lost in terror. His disgusting face hovered over me. I pushed against him with all my strength. "Why pretend? Aren’t you sick? Shouldn't you be enjoying this?” "Besides, wasn't it you who slipped me that note from Chloe, asking me to come find you?" "What? Trying to deny it now?" I had no idea what he was talking about. I bit his arm hard. He yelped, releasing me, and raised his hand to strike me. Suddenly, he was yanked back and thrown to the floor. Ethan, eyes blazing with fury, punched him repeatedly. "How dare you?!" His chest heaved. He didn’t stop until Seth was unconscious, his fists bloody. He tossed Seth aside like garbage, then turned to me, extending his hand. I huddled in the corner, terrified he’d hit me too. His eyes turned icy. "Are you that desperate? You’d even seduce Seth?" I bit my lip, hugging myself tighter. I wanted to deny it, but when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. Even Ethan noticed. He asked tentatively, “Amelia, don’t you have anything to say?” I opened my mouth again. Still nothing. I’d lost my voice. I decided to leave the Ethans for good. Margaret was heartbroken but didn’t try to stop me, just holding my hands and begging me to take care of myself. Ethan stood in the shadows. As I turned to leave with my suitcase, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "I'll drive you." I shook my head, wanting nothing to do with him. His eyes reddened. He clutched my sleeve. "I've taken care of Seth. Please, forgive me." I pulled my sleeve free and walked away without looking back. He would never understand how much I hated him. Not just for Seth, but for the nights spent locked in a dark room with rats, bugs, and cockroaches. For being stripped naked and having “I’m sick, I’m sorry” written all over my body. For the electroshock therapy that left me incontinent, the whip marks that blossomed on my skin. The mere sight of his face brought back the horrors. He had irrevocably scarred me. I hadn't gone far when my legs gave way. I collapsed. Before losing consciousness, Ethan's face was the last thing I saw. Was I dying? How ironic that I’d see him one last time.