Torn Apart Dorothy Roberts Novels & Stories

In the hall, chairs, tables, partition screens, and the antiques on the shelves all lay on the ground—some shattered, others cracked. Dorothy burst into loud sobs, wailing that Rafael had gone too far and that she would report this to the authorities. But Abigail held onto her tightly, not just supporting her but gripping her firmly to prevent her from trying to dash toward the pillar again. Though Dorothy wanted to put up a fight, it was clear that Rafael wasn't intimidated. His face remained expressionless, with not the slightest hint of remorse or hesitation. Carissa sat beside him, her gaze even more chilling.

She knew she was. She made heads turn, and her presence alone could make even the strongest man weak to his knees. Single men, dating, married, poor or rich all wanted her, but she went for Paul thinking he was the saint he portrayed himself to be. She could have said no, but she was confused. He might change, she thought, but now he wasn’t going to. He proved that over and over again. Dorothy got tired but didn’t know how to break up with him, and she was grateful he was finally gone, although she didn’t like the circumstances surrounding that fact.

My daughter, Lily, was hit and dragged for two whole miles by a drunk driver. I rushed her blood-drenched body into the emergency room. While the doctors saved her, I collapsed onto the floor in the hallway. With the last ounce of strength left in my body, I sent a text to my husband, Howard. [Lily is in critical condition. Get to the hospital now!] A few seconds later, my phone chimed with a reply. [Stay safe. I’ll be over as soon as I wrap things up here.]

"What did you just say?" "I’m coming home so the will can be announced. Isn’t that what you want? Expect to see me with my husband this evening, and don’t call this phone again," Dorothy said, cutting the call before Clarissa could say anything more. Then she did what she should have done long ago: she blocked Clarissa’s and Agnes’s numbers, along with anything related to the Florence household. After tonight, she wouldn’t hear from that family again. Later that evening, Stefan arrived a little earlier than usual. He came into the room where Dorothy was getting dressed. She wore a black, skimpy bodycon dress with a tight slit, silver heels, and was fixing her earrings.

“I can't believe you don't want to see her.” “She didn't love me, cheated on me with my brother, and gave birth to his child. Dorothy, I'm not crazy yet. She's dead to me, but feel free to believe whatever you want.” I turned around and approached my unit. I didn't stop even though she cried out my name. I called security and protested to them. I had reported that Dorothy was never allowed in. Instead, they let her stay in the corridor on my floor. They apologized, but I wouldn't listen. If it happens again, I'll move out.

It was like I was too tired to think, too tired to feel anything except the dull ache that resonated in my chest. I lay in bed, and my mind kept replaying events turning against Dave. He had been so desperate, so filled with regrets about his speech. My heart ached, but with sorrow not to be shoved aside. As bad as it was, the pain, I knew from it that I had done the right thing. Going back to Dave, trying to rekindle things, what we had wouldn't have worked for either of us. We were changed people, the experiences moulding us separately. That love had been beautiful, but it belonged in the past, where it belonged.