Beyond the Rub (Tales of a masseuse)

Chapter one.

Evelyn's POV.

“Your husband wants you dead!”

My knuckles whitened as my grip on the steering wheel tightened. The person on the other end of the line had to be lying.

“That can't be true," I stammered. "There must be some mistake. My husband would never try to kill me.”

The line went silent, and for a moment, I thought I'd lost the connection. Then her voice came back, urgent and firm. 

"I know this is difficult to believe, but you need to get out of the car. Now!”

As she spoke, a shiver ran down my spine.

That's when I noticed something was wrong. The car was acting strangely.

 My gaze shifted towards the dashboard, and my heart skipped a beat. The gas gauge needle flickered ominously, and the steering wheel felt unsteady in my hands.

I tried to turn the wheel to the right, but the car refused to respond. It continued to speed straight ahead, as if controlled by an invisible force.

 A cold dread twisted in my stomach. This was not just a coincidence. I slammed the wheel again. Harder this time, but it didn't work. 

“No!” I screamed. I pressed harder on the brake pedal, but it went straight to the floor. Completely useless. A sickening realization washed over me.

I turned the wheel again, desperately trying to pull off the road, but it was like the car was locked in its path. 

Sweat dripped from my forehead. My thoughts raced. Still, it was hard for me to believe my husband did it. 

There was no explanation on why he wanted me dead. 

The road ahead was curvy and there was nothing I could do. My stomach dropped. I had second thoughts. 

I gripped the wheel with both hands. My muscles strained. Then I slammed the wheel to the side, aiming for the trees.

The tires screeched, the sound deafening in my ears as the car skipped toward the trees. 

Crash! The impact hit with violent force. My head slammed into the steering wheel, pain flashing through me instantly. My breath left me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. The car spun slightly, smoke pouring out of the wood. Then I saw fire. 

The flames were crawling across the front of the car, leaking at the window shade. The heat was unbearable, suffocating. And I panicked, reaching for my phone.

 My finger was slick with sweat, my hands trembled as I dialed my best friend's number..

 The phone rang once, twice. 

“Please pick up,” I pleaded, trying to hold back my breath. 

My throat tinged as the result of the smoke, my body felt so heavy and sluggish. I couldn’t breathe properly, everything around seemed like it was spinning. 

The flames were eating me, everything inside. I desperately tried the number again, hoping she'd answer this time, but it went straight to voicemail. 

I closed my eyes, struggling to calm my ragged breath. But before I could open them again, darkness enveloped me, and everything went black.

******

I groggily opened my eyes, wincing at the initial blur. As my vision cleared, the room snapped into focus, and the harsh light made me squint. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, giving them time to adjust.

Where was I?

The steady beeping of the machines blocked my ears, a sharp reminder of the silence that had consumed me before the incident. 

A hospital? 

I blinked slowly, trying to make everything make sense. 

My mouth felt dry, and my body arched in a way I couldn’t describe. 

I tried to recall how I ended up here, but everything was blank and no matter how hard I attempted to connect the dots, it seemed to have fallen apart. 

The door suddenly burst open and a man dressed in all white, representing him as a doctor stepped in, a genuine smile spread across his lips. 

“You are awake?” He raised an eyebrow glancing at the clipboard in his hand. “You have been unconscious for a while now,” he examined me for a moment.

 “You are stable now,” he concluded. 

A croak escaped my lips as I tried to speak. The word struggled to form. “Wh...what happened?” 

“You were in a car accident, you have been through a lot, but you are okay now,” The doctor responded smiling. 

A deep hollow feeling settling in my chest, like I was missing something, not just anything but something important. 

“Your husband is here,” the doctor mentioned, my body tensed at the mention of him. 

My husband? 

The whole thing hit me hard, but I could not explain why they felt so wrong. 

Before I could ask the doctor more questions, the doors opened wider and a tall man, with blue eyes walked in, his hands in his pocket. 

His eyes locked with mine immediately, I felt a strange sensation swept all over me.

The man's face lit up with a warm smile. “Oh, my, you're awake!” He rushed to my side, opening his arms for a hug. 

The hug went unreciprocated, my mind still reeling as the scene unfolded. 

He pulled away from the hug, raised his eyebrows, “What's wrong sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Those words made me cringe. But my eyes darted to the doctor, ignoring the man. 

“Am I married?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Who's my husband?”

Gasps filled the room. The doctor's eyes widened in alarm, and the man's jaw clenched, his face pale.

I darted my gaze between them, desperate for answers, but their reactions only fueled my confusion. Nothing made sense.

Finally, the man spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are my wife.” 

I blinked repeatedly.