CHAPTER 1 — The Pill in Her Hand
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Rachel held the pill up like evidence in a courtroom. Daniel stared at me. I could feel his eyes on my face even through my closed lids.
Then I did the only thing I could think of.
I groaned softly and turned onto my side, as if their voices had pulled me halfway out of a dream.
"Daniel?" I mumbled. "Is it morning?"
Silence.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking at the lamp. I let my voice sound thick and confused.
"I feel sick," I whispered. "That pill tasted bitter. I think I spit it out. I'm sorry."
Daniel's face changed again. The cold man who had stood at my closet disappeared, and the gentle husband came back as easily as if he were putting on a coat.
"Hey, hey. It's okay, sweetheart." He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed my hair from my forehead. "You were talking in your sleep. Rachel came by to drop off some things for tomorrow."
"At midnight?" I asked.
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Rachel's eyes narrowed.
Daniel laughed lightly. "She couldn't sleep either. You know how she is."
He took the pill from Rachel's fingers and held it out to me with a glass of water.
"Let's try again. You need your rest."
My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could see it through my nightgown.
I took the pill. I put it on my tongue. I lifted the glass and drank.
But I pushed the pill into the gap between my back teeth and my cheek, the way I had practiced for two nights in the bathroom mirror.
"Good girl," Daniel said softly.
Good girl.
I had never hated two words more.
"I need the bathroom," I said, pushing the blanket aside.
Daniel stood up too quickly. "I'll help you."
"I can walk, Daniel."
"You're unsteady. You almost fell last week, remember?"
I didn't remember. I was starting to understand that I wasn't supposed to.
He walked me to the bathroom door and waited outside. I turned on the faucet, bent over the sink, and let the pill fall into my palm. I wrapped it in tissue and slipped it inside the cardboard roll of the toilet paper.
Evidence. Everything was evidence now.
When I came out, Rachel was gone.
Daniel helped me back into bed. He didn't leave this time. He sat in the armchair by the window, scrolling on his phone, watching me.
Hours passed.
I lay still, breathing slowly, pretending the drug was pulling me under. Inside, I was more awake than I had been in months.
Under my pillow, the little phone vibrated once.
Just once.
Someone had answered.
May you like
I didn't dare look. Daniel was six feet away.
So I lay there in the dark, listening to the man I married breathe, and I counted the minutes until morning.
