I smacked them away. “But you know who killed him, don’t you?”
Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. Biting his lips, he gently nodded.
“It was Lou, wasn’t it?” Just speaking his name out loud pissed me off. Slowly my rage began to build. When he gently nodded his head again, I reached my boiling point. “You go and work for him almost every other night, and then you come home to me?” my trembling voice slowly began to pick up in volume, “knowing, he killed my brother!”
Unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to make sense of anything, I smacked him. I was so angry with him. It hurt me to know this entire time he was lying. Everything, every emotion I felt, every single pain I dealt with since we met, I took it out on him at this very moment.
Balling my fist, I swung at him, and continued to punch him over and over: hitting his face, his chest, and his shoulders—anywhere that was visible. Dropping to my knees inches away from him, I continued to pound on his chest, and he let me. He didn’t move, didn’t try to get away, and didn’t even flinch. It was as if he knew he deserved every inch of the pain.
“Why Marcus? How could you do this to me?” My wrist gave out, and in a slower motion I lightly punched his chest one last time before burying my face into it. Sobbing, I tried to find a normal way of breathing, but my cries were uncontrollable. Wrapping his arms around me, his weeping overpowered mine. “I’m so sorry, Mia, I never meant to hurt you…I never meant to…fuck, please forgive me.” No, I couldn’t, not this time.
“I hate you, Marcus … I hate you so much.” Those words hurt us both. Though that was what I felt at that moment. So I pulled away from him; I couldn’t look into his eyes. Quickly standing, he hovered over me. I pushed him away. Walking over to his desk, I grabbed my phone.
Grabbing my wrist, he begged me not to go. With the blood pulsing through my veins, my rage quickly boiled. Turning to face him, I shoved the palms of my hands against his chest. I was surprised by my own strength. Although he was bigger than me, I forced him to stumble back a few steps, landing on the wooden desk. He managed to balance himself, but he didn’t move. His sorrowful eyes were staring into mine, pleading. Those eyes that I once fell for, that I trusted, that allowed me fall under his spell. Those eyes now only fill my stomach with such vile disgust.
Collecting my thoughts was impossible. My mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour. I’d never felt so much pain in my life. I gave him one last look, but he did and said nothing. His eyes were saddened, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get away! I turned away from him and ran as fast as I could. I could hear him yelling my name.
Snatching my purse from the table without looking back, I struggled to unlock the front door. I managed to open it with a shaky hand, tripping down the first few steps realizing at that moment, my feet were bare. Carelessly I ran down the driveway and reached my car. I shoved my hand into my bag to collect my keys, but I couldn’t find them. Shit! He was by the door. Rushing in the process, I was able to locate them and jump into the driver’s seat.
Looking up, I found him on the bottom step, yelling, begging me to stop. My heart was pulsing at such a rapid speed I felt nauseated and lightheaded. After turning on the ignition, I raced out of the driveway and onto the street. The speedometer reached ninety-five miles per hour. My hands were sweating, and my heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear myself breathe.
After twenty minutes, I was far enough to pull over by the curb, checking my rearview mirror; he was nowhere in sight. I made sure the doors were locked. Then burying my face into my hands, I screamed and burst into sobs, allowing all the rage and betrayal to pour out. How could I have believed and trusted him? How could I have been so stupid? This whole time he was warning me, but I was blind and didn’t care. I wanted the good and bad—all of him.
Knowing at that moment what he truly was, I realized that everything was just lies. Aarrgh! I looked down, trying to catch my breath. Through blurry, watery vision, I caught sight of my cream silk nightgown spotted in bright red blood.
My thoughts were uncontrollable. I was trying to make it all go away, and I pounded my fists against my temples, but all that managed to do was inflict additional pain. Why me? My chest felt tight and it was so hard to breathe I was hyperventilating. After a few minutes of taking deep long breaths, I was able to control the airflow through my lungs.
The loud ringing of my phone pierced through my thoughts. Thinking it was Marcus, I was going to cut the damn phone off, but it wasn’t him. It was Dr. Lee. “Hello,” I answered urgently.
“Ms. Sullivan. This is Dr. Lee. I just received your message. Are you still spotting or feeling any cramping.”
Choking over my tears, I burst out, “It’s a lot of blood; it seeped through my gown…”
Cutting me off, he spoke in an urgent but controlled tone. “I need you to meet me at the hospital. I can make it there in fifteen minutes.”
“Ms. Sullivan, the procedure could take anywhere from thirty to forty minutes. We are giving you general anesthesia. When you wake up, you will feel a little groggy. I want you to count down, beginning from one hundred.”
“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-ei…”
I awoke feeling confused. Just a minute ago, I was lying in a cold operating room, counting backwards, and now I’m in another room. A woman in navy blue scrubs was standing a few inches away from the edge of the bed. She was scribbling away on a piece of paper. My eyes felt heavy; it was exhausting trying to keep them open. The nurse must have sensed my attempt to stare. Looking from under her glasses, a warm gentle smile spread along her face. Placing the clipboard into a holder on the end of the bed, she walked to my side. “Hi Ms. Sullivan, my name is Sandy. I’m the RN on this floor. You’re in the recovery room. How are you feeling?” she asked.
Trying to locate my voice, I mumbled, “Uh, I feel really … groggy and thirsty.” She gently smiled and giggled.
“That’s normal. Dr. Lee will be in to speak with you in just a few minutes. Your mother is speaking with him at this moment. In the meantime, I’ll grab you some water.” She left the room, leaving me in a daze.
A couple nights ago—that night I left him—I went in to see Dr. Lee. Some testing showed that my HCG levels were dropping, and Dr. Lee could no longer hear the heartbeat of my little peanut. I was miscarrying, and Dr. Lee recommended that I allow the fetus to pass on its own. When I followed up this morning, he said that only half of the fetus passed, and he strongly recommended a D&C to prevent an infection.