The View from Hell

Beverly's hands shot out quickly, hitting against the car as her body fell forward. For one scary moment, she almost fell completely, her face just inches from the hard pavement. The world tilted sideways as gravity pulled her toward what would have been the worst fall of her life - not just physically, but emotionally.

But somehow, miraculously, she caught herself. Her arms shook as she pulled herself back up, her muscles screaming from the sudden effort. Her heart beat fast like a trapped bird, adrenaline rushing through her as she realized how close she had come to giving Faye exactly what she wanted.

Behind her, she heard Faye make an annoyed sound, like Beverly saving herself from falling was somehow a personal insult.

Beverly stood up slowly, every movement careful and controlled even though her hands were shaking. Her dignity hung by the thinnest thread, but she refused to let it break completely. She didn't look back at either of them as she walked quickly toward the restaurant, her steps steady despite the chaos in her chest.

Behind her, she heard the sharp sound of disinfectant spray.

"Can never be too careful," Faye's voice carried across the parking lot with fake disgust. "You never know what you might catch from these... people."

The sound of more spraying followed, loud and dramatic. Beverly could picture it without turning around - Faye dramatically cleaning the car door handle, the seat, anywhere Beverly might have touched, as if just being near her was contaminating.

"I mean, you never know what diseases these mute people carry around," Faye continued, making sure her voice was loud enough for Beverly to hear. "It's probably genetic, you know? All that... brokenness. Has to come from somewhere deep in their family."

Beverly's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but she kept walking. One foot in front of the other. Don't turn around. Don't let them see how much the words hurt.

Beverly pushed through the restaurant doors, the glass cool against her hot skin, refusing to let them see her break. The familiar sound of the entrance bell felt like a small victory, proof that she had survived another attack on her humanity.

The moment she stepped inside, Beverly felt like she could breathe again. The familiar sounds of dishes clinking and busy servers wrapped around her like protection, drowning out the poison still echoing in her ears. Here, surrounded by people doing honest work who didn't know her story, she wasn't the Carter family's unwanted burden. Here, she was just Beverly - a hardworking waitress who happened to be mute.

She hurried to the employee break room, her footsteps quick and quiet. The small space smelled of coffee and cleaning supplies, comforting in its normal, everyday smell. Beverly changed into her uniform quickly, her fingers working the buttons automatically from doing it so many times. The simple black dress and white apron felt like armor, changing her from victim to survivor, from broken wife to capable woman. For a few precious hours, she could pretend her life was normal.

Outside in the car, Faye slipped into the passenger seat gracefully, her body already moving toward Diro like a magnet. The leather seat creaked as she positioned herself carefully, her red dress riding up to show more thigh than necessary.

"God, I've missed your touch," she purred, her voice husky as her perfectly manicured fingers found the buttons of his shirt. She pressed herself against him, molding her body to his side like she belonged there, like she was claiming territory that had always been hers.

Her lips found his neck, her tongue tasting his skin. Diro's breath caught as she worked her way up to his ear, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot before she whispered her next words like a prayer and demand rolled into one.

"I can't wait to finally have you all to myself," she breathed against his skin, her hand sliding down his chest slowly. "The thought of sharing you with that mute thing makes me want to throw up. You're mine, Diro. You've always been mine."

Her fingers found his belt, playing with the metal as she turned to face him more. The afternoon sun through the windshield caught the highlights in her hair, making her look like some kind of angel - beautiful and terrible at the same time.

"When are you getting the divorce, baby?" Her voice turned sweet but demanding. "I'm so tired of hiding while she walks around pretending to be your wife. We both know I'm the real woman in your life."

"You know my situation," Diro replied, his voice strained as her hand continued exploring his body.

"Speaking of situations," Faye's voice turned sharp and calculating. "When am I getting that expensive car you promised me three months ago? Or are you just a billionaire in words who can't keep his promises?"

Her hand moved lower, bold and possessive, as her voice dropped to a whisper full of intimate knowledge.

"Don't tell me you only make promises when you're deep inside me, riding me like a wild horse until I scream your name."

Her fingers found what they were looking for, and Diro's sharp breath filled the car. She smiled against his neck, satisfied with his reaction, her power over him obvious in every tremor that ran through his body.

"Stop, Faye," Diro's voice was breathless, barely controlled as her touch threatened to undo him completely. "You'll have the keys tomorrow. Are we good now?"

Faye's squeal of excitement was pure and genuine, the sound of a woman getting exactly what she wanted. She pulled him into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger, her body pressing against his like she wanted to crawl inside his skin.

Inside the restaurant, Beverly came out of the break room, her transformation complete. The uniform had worked its magic, turning her from a broken victim into a capable professional. She moved through the dining room quietly and efficiently, checking tables and preparing for the evening rush.

"Beverly!" Vanya's cheerful voice cut through the noise like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Her friend appeared at her side with a bright smile and her phone, already angled for the perfect shot.

"You look absolutely beautiful today," Vanya gushed, her camera clicking rapidly as she took pictures of Beverly from different angles. "Seriously, you could be a model. Those cheekbones, those eyes - you're wasted waiting tables. I'm posting this on my I*******m right now. My followers are going to die when they see how gorgeous you are."

Beverly managed a real smile this time, the first genuine one she'd had all day. Vanya's friendship was one of the few bright spots in her dark world, a reminder that not everyone saw her as broken or defective. In Vanya's eyes, she was beautiful, valuable, worthy of admiration and respect.

But as she moved to take her first table order, Beverly's eyes automatically looked toward the big window that faced the parking lot - a habit she'd developed over months of working here, always watching for Diro's return, always preparing herself for whatever mood he might be in.

What she saw there made her stomach lurch violently, making her feel so sick she barely had time to press her hand to her mouth. The world tilted, her vision blurring as her brain struggled to understand what was happening before her eyes.

"Beverly?" Vanya's voice seemed to come from far away, like she was speaking through water. "Beverly, what is it? You look like you're going to be sick."

Following her friend's horrified gaze, Vanya moved closer to the window. When she saw what had made Beverly turn green, her face twisted with anger and disgust, her protective instincts flaring to life.

"Oh, hell no," Vanya said angrily, immediately grabbing Beverly's arm gently but firmly. "We're leaving. Right now. You don't need to see this."

"No," Beverly signed frantically, trying to pull away even as her body continued to shake with disgust. "I'm used to it. I'm fine. It just... sometimes it breaks me, seeing..."

But Vanya was already dragging her toward the back exit, her protective instincts in full force, her face set with determined anger.

"You are not 'used to' that," Vanya said angrily, her eyes blazing. "No woman should ever have to be 'used to'-"

The words hung in the air between them, unfinished but full of meaning that made Beverly's heart pound with dread and desperate hope at the same time.