Page 244 of This Woman Forever

The sick feeling in my gut worsens as Ava gazes at me, scared, her head shaking mildly. I did this. Caused this. I walked her into the middle of this, and I don’t know if I can get her out unharmed. Get our babies away from this psychotic madwoman who has every intention of doing irrevocable damage.

“I’m so sorry.” How did I let this happen? What kind of man am I? “I should have told you.” Should have given her every detail, made her aware so she could at least recognize the signs.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says desperately.

“It does matter,” Lauren hisses. “She knows nothing, does she?”

I stare at Ava, wishing and hoping, wishing and hoping, my head shaking.

“She doesn’t know about our daughter?”

A sense of calm finality comes over me, my eyes closing briefly as I exhale, needing to escape the shock. But I catch Ava jerk and instinct has me moving toward her.

“Stay where you are!” Lauren screams, halting me, my breath held, my eyes set on my pregnant wife as she gasps for breath, feeling for something that isn’t there to steady herself.

“Ava,” I yell, startling her.

“Yes, we were married,” Lauren declares, proud. “And he left me when I was pregnant.”

What? No. She does not get to spin her tale. She does not get to be economical with the truth. “I was forced to marry you because you were pregnant,” I seethe, trying to keep a lid on the inevitable anger, pushing back visions of me walking on numb legs down the aisle. Walking toward my tragic fate. “I didn’t want to, and you knew it. We were seventeen years old, Lauren. We fooled around one time.” And she tricked me. Got me plastered. Helped me escape. Fuck!

“Don’t blame your decision on your parents.”

My parents? No. I blame her. “I was trying to right my wrongs. I was trying to make them happy.” And it was all wasted. I only made things worse. More tragic. “I—” I see Ava backing away in my side vision, but I don’t look her way. I keep Lauren’s eyes on me. Yes, get away. Run.

“Don’t move,” Lauren barks. “Don’t even think about trying to leave, because this knife will be in him before you make it out the door.” I’m sure Ava’s realized by now that the scar on my stomach wasn’t caused in a car accident. So she’ll know Lauren is serious. Deadly serious. “You’ve not even heard the best part.” Lauren flashes me a satisfied smile, enjoying this as much as only a psycho would. Performing. Shooting for the most shocking, the most extreme reactions. “So it would be nice if you stick around to hear me out.”

“Lauren,” I say, my voice low. What the fuck is she expecting from this? That Ava will hear her, leave me, and we’ll live happily ever after?

“What? You don’t want me to tell your young, pregnant wife that you killed our daughter?”

It hits Ava like a boulder. Fuck, she’s going to pass out. The stress, the pressure, the emotions. But if I move?

I look at Lauren. “No,” I yell, seeing her moving toward Ava, the knife poised. My God, no.

I fly across the kitchen like a bull, catching Ava, blocking Lauren’s path to her. “Fuck,” I hiss, my vision blurring as pain radiates through my body and an awful sound invades my ears, like a squelch. I still for a moment, paralyzed. And then I feel the knife in my side. I breath out on a rush and start to shake, adrenaline kicking in. Urgency. I haven’t got long.

I spin, grab her, and smash her to the ground, and Lauren’s hands grip my wrists as I straddle her, heaving, the pain getting worse, the feeling of warm wetness creeping across my shirt. I blink, over and over, trying to clear my vision. And when I do, she smiles. She’s fucking stabbed me. Again. But she was aiming for Ava. For our babies.

I roar, losing all control, and punch her in the face. Only Lauren would laugh. “I didn’t kill my daughter,” I bellow, drawing back and going again, sinking my fist into her face, the sounds of her laughing unbearable. How can she laugh when we’re talking about Rosie. How?

“You did,” she sings, delighted, her hands hitting at my chest, catching me in my side. The pain flares. “The moment she got in that car, you sent her to her death.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I grunt, feeling dizzy, the flow of blood leaving my body so fast I can actually feel it pouring out of me.

“Carmichael should never have taken our daughter,” she screams, laughing. “You should’ve been watching her!” She spits out some blood, baring red-stained teeth. “I spent five years in a padded cell. I’ve spent twenty years wishing I’d never let you see her.” She spits at me, scratching at my sleeves. “You left me without you, then you killed the only piece of you I had left! I’ll never let you replace her,” she screams. “No one else gets a piece of you!”

Deranged and desperate, black dots now hampering my vision, I swing aimlessly, feeling and hearing bones crunch against my fist.

And then... silence.

No more tormenting words.

No more laughing.

The adrenaline leaves me, and suddenly air isn’t so easy to find. I gasp, my lungs burning, as I raise my hands and hold them in front of me, trying to focus on them. “Fuck,” I whisper, looking down at my shirt.

“Nothing will break us.”

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