Chapter 4

My breakdown lasted until the middle of the night. I wept and laughed like a madwoman.

Whether from extreme psychological shock or sheer physical exhaustion, a wave of nausea hit me.

I threw up uncontrollably, then curled into a tight ball on the floor, sobbing until I had no tears left.

Three days passed in a blur. I barely ate a single bite.

Still, I forced myself to clean up and get dressed. I wanted to talk to Danny one last time.

I wanted to have a calm, reasonable conversation, even if the odds were slim.

The moment I climbed into my car, the driver's side door jerked open.

Danny grabbed me by the coat and yanked me violently onto the driveway.

“Ah! What are you doing?!”

I hit the pavement hard, a cry of pain escaping my throat.

Danny’s eyes were bloodshot, his entire body trembling on the brink of absolute rage.

“Abigail is missing,” he snarled. “You did this, didn't you?”

I froze, a sense of absurdity washing over me.

Before I could deny it, Danny’s gaze darted toward the backseat of my car.

His pupils contracted.

He reached in, grabbed a bundle of fabric and whipped it directly into my face.

“Why is Abigail’s shirt in your car? And why is there fucking blood on it?!”

I clutched the stained shirt, panic instantly taking over.

“I don't know! I’ve been locked inside the house for three days, I haven't—”

“Shut up!”

Danny’s face twisted with pure revulsion.

“I regret not divorcing you sooner, Elena. My soft-hearted bullshit is what got Abigail hurt!”

He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and forced my hands together, wrapping a thick length of rope tightly around my wrists.

Panic surged through me. I thrashed wildly as he tied the other end to the back of the car and climbed into the driver's seat.

“What are you doing?! Let me go! If you don't believe me, call the police!” I screamed.

“Do you think I haven't already?!” Danny yelled back, his voice thick with malicious fury. “She’s still missing!”

He leaned out the window, his eyes cold and dark.

“You want to keep lying? Fine. Let’s see how tough you really are.”

He stepped on the gas.

The car began to roll forward.

I was dragged onto my feet, forced to walk, then stumble, then sprint just to stay upright.

Starved for three days, my body gave out in less than two minutes. I fell hard onto the asphalt.

“Stop! Danny, stop!”

The sharp gravel tore through my clothes and peeled back my skin.

My agonizing screams cut through the empty road as a warm liquid suddenly began flowing down the inside of my thighs.

Danny didn't slow down.

He kept driving until I stopped screaming, until I couldn't even make a sound.

A sudden chill ran down Danny’s spine.

In his rearview mirror, I was lying completely motionlessly on the road, dragged like a lifeless corpse.

His heart dropped, but he instantly hardened his expression and scoffed out loud.

He pulled over and stepped out of the car.

“Stop pretending to be dead, Elena. I was driving slow as hell. You're just trying to get—”

The words died in his throat.

Danny froze in his tracks.

A thick, bright trail of red blood was spreading beneath me, staining the pavement right before his eyes.