Page 54 of Burn Bag

Well, he would probably grin and pull me in for a hug, saying he wasn’t surprised at all. My father was always on my side, always going with the flow when it came to his baby girl.

Still, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell either of them, yet. I wasn’t ready for a conversation that long or for them to fly out here and meet my new, nearly castrated husband. I waited for the call to go to voicemail, breathing a sigh of relief that I no longer had to see the flashing name taunting me. No, now I just had to listen to the voicemails and wait for panic to ensue.

I glanced over my shoulder at the bacon just before flipping the switch on the mixer. Just as I turned, powder flew everywhere, sending a thick coat of white into the air. Screeching, I tried to rush forward to turn it off, but flour got in my eyes and throat. I started choking, waving the white stuff away from my face.

I jolted as the fire alarm sounded, scaring the shit out of me. Turning to the stove and still choking, I gasped when I saw thebacon burning to a crisp. I rushed over and flipped off the burner, grabbing the handle of the pan and rushing over to the sink. Oil popped at me, splashing me in the face and all over my hands.

Screaming, I turned on the water, trying to diffuse the situation, but all that happened was the oil crackled and popped, splashing all over me.

“Holy mother of God!” I cried out, tossing the pan away from me and into the sink.

The fire alarm kept blaring and white powder spun around the room. Tears stung my eyes as I sank to the floor against the cabinet and covered my ears.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bradley shouted over the alarm.

I peeled my eyes open and watched as he hopped in front of the smoke alarm, waving a towel in front of it. Then he rushed over to the mixer, choking on the white powder as he searched for the switch. When it finally shut off, he stood above me, cursing as he stared down at me in disbelief.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” I cried, still holding my arm.

Sighing, he bent down and gently pried my arm from where it was cradled against my chest. “Do you actually know how to cook?”

I bit my lip, shaking my head slightly. “I always used the oven to store extra dishes.”

Quirking an eyebrow at me, he grinned. “Extra dishes for the food you don’t know how to cook?”

I shrugged slightly. It didn’t make sense, but that was that.

“Come on. Let’s get this checked out.”

He hauled me to my feet and grabbed a rag, running it under the water. I hissed as he pressed it to my arm, but he just shook his head at me.

“How the hell did you get these burns?”

“I was trying to move the pan to the sink. It was…smoking.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “And you decided to stick your arm in the path of the grease?”

I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. He was already laughing at me.

“Alright, let’s get to the clinic. They can clean this up and give us some good shit.”

But as he tugged on my hand, I found my feet sticking to the floor, refusing to move. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Daphne, you have burns all up your arms. Did you hold your hand above the oil just to see if you could stand it?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “And I’m sure I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“You may not need to, but I’m taking you anyway.”

I grunted in protest as he started pulling me toward the front door. “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need to see the doctor!”

“Too fucking bad. You’re my wife, and I’m not letting you sit here with burns on your body when I can take care of you!”

I kept dragging my feet, refusing to go any further. “No, really! I insist!”

“And so do I,” he countered, tugging me to the door.

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