his hand from his motherâs grasp, grabbed at his Steve ear, and pulled away the hearing aid. The sound coming over the hearing device was silenced at once, and he could move again, his mind no longer filled with such angry, horrible thoughts.
âYou better not have broken that,â his mother snarled.
Isaac looked at his hand, and at the hearing device that he was holding, and hoped that he had broken it.
He never wanted to hear those horrible sounds again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Janice Berthold held her breath as she ran her still-bleeding hand beneath the cold water from her bathroom sink. She could feel her heart beating in the wounds, as if the powerful muscle had somehow relocated from her chest to her hand, each pulse accompanied by sharp, stabbing pain.
She squirted liquid soap into her good hand and gently rubbed the antiseptic around and into the wounds. That would be all that she would need, for the bite to get infected. Janice looked through the doorway of the bedroom bathroom at Alfred sprawled upon the floor, gnawing relentlessly on one of his toys. There was a part of her that felt a spark of anger toward the dog, but another that felt bad. The poor thing didnât know he had bitten her. He thought he was protecting himself.
Didnât he?
The French bulldog saw that she was watching him and locked eyes with her. She tried to find a sign that the dog was concerned for her, sorry for what he had done, but she saw nothing. It was like looking into the blackness of a dollâs eyes.
But she knew that he loved her in his special way.
A faint noise from somewhere downstairs made Alfred bark, and she started, whacking her injured hand on the faucet. She swore at the explosion of pain, removed her hands from beneath the water, and turned the faucet off. Alfred had run off to investigate the sound, but she had already guessed what it was.
Who it was.
She could feel herself getting immediately angry, the anger using the pain of her hand to fuel its severity. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped her throbbing hand, listening for the sound of his approach.
âHoney?â her husband called from downstairs. âYou up there?â
No, Iâm not. . . . Iâve gone away someplace where I never have to hear your awful voice again, she wanted to scream, but insteadâ
âYeah, Iâm in the bathroom.â
She dried her hand while listening to hear if he would come up to bother her further. First there was the sound of multiple paws coming up as Alfred returned, followed by Ronaldâs heavier footfalls.
Janice didnât want him to see her like thisâinjured, in pain. She could just imagine the indignities she would suffer because of it.
From a cabinet in the corner of the master bathroom, she removed some bandages and antibiotic ointment.
âHoney?â
She didnât answer, willing herself invisibleâ NO, willing herself to another part of the world. Another planet, if it were possible.
Ronald pushed the door open wider with a creak. She could sense him standing there, hear the sound of Alfred breathing alongside him, and again she wondered how she could have gotten here.
How she could despise another human being so much.
She must have loved him once, but in all honesty, she could not remember. The hate was so strong now it had burned away all memory of their past life, but what she did remember was what her life wasnât.
It wasnât what it was supposed to be like in the fairy tales, or in the movies. Love so satisfying that you didnât even need to eat to continue to live. He was supposed to give her that, but she came to eventually learn that it was all a lie. Ronald was supposed to give her this fantasy, but instead he gave her the monotony of life.
He wasnât a prince, or an action hero, or even a college professor.
He was a middle-aged, balding, certified public accountant, and he had tricked her into giving away the best years of
âYou better not have broken that,â his mother snarled.
Isaac looked at his hand, and at the hearing device that he was holding, and hoped that he had broken it.
He never wanted to hear those horrible sounds again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Janice Berthold held her breath as she ran her still-bleeding hand beneath the cold water from her bathroom sink. She could feel her heart beating in the wounds, as if the powerful muscle had somehow relocated from her chest to her hand, each pulse accompanied by sharp, stabbing pain.
She squirted liquid soap into her good hand and gently rubbed the antiseptic around and into the wounds. That would be all that she would need, for the bite to get infected. Janice looked through the doorway of the bedroom bathroom at Alfred sprawled upon the floor, gnawing relentlessly on one of his toys. There was a part of her that felt a spark of anger toward the dog, but another that felt bad. The poor thing didnât know he had bitten her. He thought he was protecting himself.
Didnât he?
The French bulldog saw that she was watching him and locked eyes with her. She tried to find a sign that the dog was concerned for her, sorry for what he had done, but she saw nothing. It was like looking into the blackness of a dollâs eyes.
But she knew that he loved her in his special way.
A faint noise from somewhere downstairs made Alfred bark, and she started, whacking her injured hand on the faucet. She swore at the explosion of pain, removed her hands from beneath the water, and turned the faucet off. Alfred had run off to investigate the sound, but she had already guessed what it was.
Who it was.
She could feel herself getting immediately angry, the anger using the pain of her hand to fuel its severity. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped her throbbing hand, listening for the sound of his approach.
âHoney?â her husband called from downstairs. âYou up there?â
No, Iâm not. . . . Iâve gone away someplace where I never have to hear your awful voice again, she wanted to scream, but insteadâ
âYeah, Iâm in the bathroom.â
She dried her hand while listening to hear if he would come up to bother her further. First there was the sound of multiple paws coming up as Alfred returned, followed by Ronaldâs heavier footfalls.
Janice didnât want him to see her like thisâinjured, in pain. She could just imagine the indignities she would suffer because of it.
From a cabinet in the corner of the master bathroom, she removed some bandages and antibiotic ointment.
âHoney?â
She didnât answer, willing herself invisibleâ NO, willing herself to another part of the world. Another planet, if it were possible.
Ronald pushed the door open wider with a creak. She could sense him standing there, hear the sound of Alfred breathing alongside him, and again she wondered how she could have gotten here.
How she could despise another human being so much.
She must have loved him once, but in all honesty, she could not remember. The hate was so strong now it had burned away all memory of their past life, but what she did remember was what her life wasnât.
It wasnât what it was supposed to be like in the fairy tales, or in the movies. Love so satisfying that you didnât even need to eat to continue to live. He was supposed to give her that, but she came to eventually learn that it was all a lie. Ronald was supposed to give her this fantasy, but instead he gave her the monotony of life.
He wasnât a prince, or an action hero, or even a college professor.
He was a middle-aged, balding, certified public accountant, and he had tricked her into giving away the best years of
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