Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Broken Days
MARTHA’S POV
I woke to the same damp smell of concrete and the faint metallic tang of fear that had become my constant companion. My eyes opened slowly to the dim light filtering through a small barred window high on the wall. Three days. I had counted every sunrise and sunset through that tiny opening. Three days since Henry had taken me. Three days since Garrison had called me in panic, his voice fading into nothing. I had no idea if he still breathed, if the poison had taken him, or if he fought for life in some hospital bed. The uncertainty clawed at my chest worse than the hunger.
I shifted on the thin mattress Henry had thrown on the floor. My wrists ached from the ropes he used when he left the room. My body felt heavy, drained. Last night replayed in my mind like a nightmare I could not escape.
The argument had echoed through the walls late in the evening. Henry’s voice boomed first, full of contempt.
“I am done with you, Violet. Martha is what I want now. She carries new blood. She represents the future I will build without my ungrateful son.”
Violet’s reply came sharp and furious. “You married me. You chose me after everything. Now you want to throw me away for that little whore carrying your son’s child? I will destroy you if you try to keep her, Henry.”
The furniture crashed, doors slammed. Then silence fell until the lock on my door clicked. Violet stepped inside. Her eyes burned with rage as she looked me over from head to toe. I pushed myself up despite the pain in my cheek where Henry had struck me earlier.
“Please,” I begged, my voice hoarse from crying. “Help me get out of here. Not for me, but for the baby. This child has done nothing wrong. Henry will hurt us both. You know what he is capable of.”
Violet stared at me for a long moment. Her gaze traveled over my swollen face, my dirty clothes, the curve of my belly. She said nothing. Not a single word. She simply turned on her heel and left, locking the door behind her. The sound of that lock still rang in my ears this morning.
I sat up now and leaned against the cold wall. Tears came again but I wiped them away angrily. I had cried enough. Rescue seemed impossible. Elias knew I was missing. Garrison might still be alive. Yet no one had come. Three days of waiting, pleading, and fighting off Henry’s advances had left me exhausted. Tonight he might succeed in what he tried yesterday. The thought made bile rise in my throat. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and whispered to the baby.
“Hold on, little one. We have to be strong.”
The lock clicked again. Henry entered carrying a tray with bread, soup, and water. He looked fresh and composed in a clean shirt, as if kidnapping his son’s pregnant wife was normal business. He set the tray down in front of me and stood with his arms crossed.
“It’s time to eat,” he muttered.
I turned my head away. “I am not hungry.”
He crouched down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You will eat for the baby. How long do you intend to carry on with this madness of yours? It’s been three days, three days of this stubbornness.”
“Why do you care about the baby?” I asked, my voice trembling but defiant. “You poisoned its father. Your own son. Garrison might be dead because of you. What kind of man does that and then pretends to care about his grandchild?”
Henry laughed. The sound echoed off the walls, harsh and cold. “You know nothing about my history with Garrison. That boy turned his back on everything I gave him the moment he chose you. Shut your mouth and eat.”
I kept my lips pressed tight when he lifted the spoon. He gripped my jaw harder and forced it between my teeth. Warm soup spilled down my chin and onto my shirt. I choked and coughed as he shoved another spoonful in. Tears streamed down my face while I struggled against his hold. The food tasted like ash and fear.
“Stop fighting me,” he growled, pushing more bread toward my mouth. “You belong to me now. I take what I want.”
I turned my head violently and spat the food out. “I am your son’s wife. You cannot do this. It is sick. You are sick.”
Henry wiped his hands on a napkin and smiled. “I can have anything I want. Anyone I want. Garrison thought he could build a life without me. Now I will take his wife, raise his child as mine, and show him what real power looks like. This is a competition he already lost.”
He set the tray aside and moved closer. His hand slid up my leg. I tried to push him away but weakness from lack of food made my arms feel like lead. Panic surged through me as he pressed me back against the mattress. His breath felt hot on my neck while his fingers dug into my thigh.
“Please don’t,” I whispered, tears falling faster. “Not this. Not in front of the baby.”
Henry ignored me. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and used the other to tug at my clothes. His weight crushed down on me. I screamed and twisted, but he only laughed and forced my legs apart with his knee. Fear choked me. This was really happening. After three days of fighting, I had no strength left to stop him.
His mouth crashed down on mine, brutal and demanding. I tasted blood from my split lip. His free hand roamed over my body, squeezing, claiming. I sobbed against his lips, mind screaming for Garrison, for anyone.
Then a voice cut through the nightmare from somewhere outside the building.
“Martha!”
Garrison. He sounded strong and alive.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder every second. Henry froze on top of me.