Chapter 3 The blade she couldn't use
556 Words
David woke up to silence. No coffee brewing. No Lena humming in the kitchen.
He went downstairs and froze in the doorway of his study. The door was ajar. The divorce papers lay on his desk, her signature stark against the white. Lena Williams. And beneath it, a note in her handwriting:
I can’t hurt you anymore. Please don’t look for me.
His chest caved in.
“Lena?” His voice cracked through the empty house. No answer.
He grabbed the papers, his hands shaking. Divorce. She wanted a divorce. After last night, after him walking in and accusing her—
He didn’t finish the thought. He was already running for his car.
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At the same time, Lena was at St. Raphael’s Hospital.
She’d told the nurse she had cramping. It wasn’t a lie. Her body was punishing her for what she’d decided. She asked for a private room. She asked for scissors.
“I need to cut the thread on my gown,” she said.
The nurse handed her small medical scissors. Blunt-tipped. Harmless.
Lena waited until the nurse left.
She wasn’t trying to hurt the baby. She was trying to stop being the person who could hurt David. If she couldn’t leave him cleanly, if she couldn’t disappear without him chasing her, then she’d make herself disappear another way.
She pressed the scissor point to her forearm.
The door opened.
“Lena!”
Ann stood in the doorway, still in her robe, hair wild. She’d followed her. Of course she had.
Lena didn’t move. “Get out.”
Ann crossed the room fast and knocked the scissors out of Lena’s hand. They clattered to the floor.
“Don’t you dare,” Ann hissed, breathless. “Don’t you dare do this to him.”
Lena shoved her back. Hard. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m doing it for him,” Lena said, her voice breaking. “Can’t you see that?”
Ann didn’t back off. Her eyes were wild. “If you die, he’ll never stop blaming himself. He’ll never stop looking for why. And he’ll find out.”
Lena’s laugh was sharp and ugly. “Then let him.”
“You don’t get to leave him like this,” Ann said, stepping between Lena and the bed. “Not like this. Not after what you’ve already—”
“Don’t,” Lena cut her off. “Don’t say his name like you care. You don’t. You care about the family name. About control.”
Ann’s face crumpled for half a second before she forced it still. “Maybe. But right now, I care about keeping you alive.”
Lena looked at her, at the desperation in Ann’s face, and felt nothing but disgust. “I don’t need you to save me.”
She turned her back to Ann and sank onto the edge of the bed, shaking. Ann didn’t move. She didn’t touch her. She just stood there, blocking the door, like a jailer.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Lena whispered, “I don’t know how to save him without breaking.”
Ann didn’t answer. She just stayed between Lena and the door.
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Meanwhile, David was tearing through the city, the divorce papers crumpled in his fist, calling Lena’s phone over and over.
And getting no answer.
- Writer
