Page 99 of Depravity

“What?”

“I can see it, where her nails clawed…” His face turns green like he might just puke.

“What does that mean? Was she successful, can she still have children?” Christ, I don’t know what I’ll do if she can’t. I won’t lose her. I refuse to give her up. But she must be mad. She has to be, to attempt such a thing.

He doesn’t reply beyond examining her more.

And all that insanity, all the fury seems to boil over. My wife becomes a thing possessed. She starts snarling, scratching, attacking the doctor and I rush over, holding her down.

The doctor pulls out a syringe and quickly stabs her with it, and within seconds her arms stop their fight, she gurgles up nonsense and then falls into unconsciousness.

“Well?” I snap, “Is the damage irreparable?”

“No,” He says. “Though it will take a little time to heal. She will have some internal scarring, but she has not done enough to prevent a pregnancy.”

Finally, some good fucking news.

“You won’t be able to have intercourse. At least, not until the sutures are out.” He adds.

“And how long will that be?” I ask. Like I have the luxury of time.

He tilts his head. “At least a week.”

A week? A fucking week? I need her pregnant now. I need… my mind comes to a stop as I realise, I haven’t tested her in a while. Nor has she bled.

“Could she be pregnant now?” I demand.

The doctor winces, glancing at her broken body. “If she was, there’s a high chance it wouldn’t have survived the spinal injury…”

I narrow my eyes, what the fuck is he saying? My hand grabs around his throat before I can register the movement. “Tell me she wasn’t pregnant. Tell me…”

He splutters, his stupid little arms wave around and I let him go while he gasps about checking to be sure.

Yeah, he better check, he better be absolutely certain.

I sink to my knees, taking Brynn’s hand. Did I kill our child? Did my anger ruin the one thing I wanted more than anything else in this cursed world? No, it wasn’t anger that made me hurt her, at least, not all anger. It was logical, it was the right thing to do. It was what was necessary to keep my wife as mine.

It takes forever for the doctor to find out, for him to say.

And the relief, the peace that hits me. No, she wasn’t pregnant. No, I didn’t just fuck up.

I should have known, God wouldn’t have played such a trick on me as that. He wouldn’t have let me kill my child. He wants her bred as much as I do.

“Fix her.” I say, as my eyes settle back on her face.

She looks so peaceful right now. So placid.

I know once the sedative wears off, she’ll be back to her rabid state again, that this won’t be the only time she tries to pull this stunt.

I get up, going to get the ropes but I’m sick of tying her up, sick of seeing the marks on her wrists and ankles from where it rubs. Besides, it kills the mood, having to untie her and retie her every time I want to change position. Breaking her spine was meant to fix that too. It was meant to incapacitate her enough that I didn’t have to resort to such measures anymore.

I run my hand down my face, realising that I need a new plan, a better plan. I’ve broken her body. I have to break her mind.

Iwake up groaning. My eyelids feel so heavy. My body feels like it’s lying on a slab of concrete.

I try to move and nothing works, not my arms, not my legs… that awful memory hits me as I remember what he did. What he broke.

A whimper escapes my lips and within seconds, my tears are streaming down my cheeks.

---