The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3), Bethany-Kris [books for 8th graders txt] 📗

her if she got violent? Force medication down her throat?

She couldn’t care less.

“He wants to know when he can call you next, if you don’t want to speak with him now,” Sylvia said.

Karine sighed, saying softly, “He can call when I’m dead.”

That’s not what the therapist told her husband.

“I suggest we call you when she’s feeling more up to it, Mr. Avdonin,” Sylvia whispered into the phone before ending the call.

Karine’s throat felt dry, but she wasn’t interested in drinking anything. That meant moving. Breathing more. Being. The only thing going through her mind was how close she had been to freedom, that he’d dare to let her live, and now it was all over.

And it was all Roman’s fault.

“Karine, we’re trying to help you here. I hope you come to that realization sooner rather than later.” Sylvia’s happy-go-lucky demeanor hardened a bit when she added, “For your own sake.”

“Who do I have to call to wipe my ass?” Karine hissed in response.

*

She walked out to the Zen garden two days later.

Several more attempts had been made by Sylvia—and other members of staff—to try and bring Karine out of her shell. None of it worked, and she only did what she wanted when she wanted to do it. She refused all contact and conversation, too stubborn to give everyone else what they wanted when she didn’t have anything at all.

Apparently, Roman had called several times since that first phone call. She’d refused to speak to him, too.

At the garden, she stood over a small pond, watching the colorful fish swimming around. The scaly bastards had the right idea. Short life span. Their only purpose in life was to feed, reproduce, and then die. A simpler cycle.

There wasn’t emotion involved.

Pain was primal.

“Drink this.”

Karine sighed at the new voice behind her. It was Sylvia.

Surprise.

Not.

She was the only one who continued to make normal conversation with her at this point. Everyone else had given up and were trying to either force her, threaten her, or bribe her into submission. To no avail.

Karine looked at the cup the woman passed to her hand, and rolled her eyes. “Probably not—who knows what you’ve put in there?”

“It’s just chamomile tea, don’t worry. We don’t believe in drugging our residents without explaining we’re doing it here. Besides, we’ve been given a history of your past experiences by your husband. Although, he’s admitted he may not have the full picture himself. Anyway, the point is, we’re not going to play around with drugs. You’ve been told you won’t be forced into anything, and you won’t.”

“Except talking, apparently.”

And living.

Karine continued staring at the fish. Her stomach rumbled, and she worried Sylvia would hear. She’d eaten nothing but some dry toast and crackers since her arrival with water to wash it down and keep her stomach from eating itself. It was one thing to be hungry, but it was another to feel like she couldn’t actually eat. She was sure if she put anything of substance into her stomach, she’d throw up.

Even the toast and crackers were a lot.

Too much, really.

Karine refused to speak, staring down at her reflection in the mug of tea. She knew what these people wanted from her—the same thing her father had demanded of her every single of her life.

To obey.

Once Katina died, he couldn’t bear to look at Karine’s face anymore. It had only added to the insecurity she already felt whenever she stared into a mirror. She wondered if he wished their places were reversed. If the supposedly unknown murderer had killed Karine instead of his beloved older daughter.

Most of the time Karine wished for exactly that, too.

Katina was the one who deserved to live a full life and didn’t, while Karine knew she wasn’t capable of having one in the first place. The universe seemed determined to prove it, too.

“This will help calm you, it might even increase your appetite,” Sylvia continued.

Karine felt herself snapping.

Every last nerve burned.

She didn’t want Sylvia to be nice to her.

She didn’t want sympathy or pity.

She just wanted to be left alone.

Before she could control her actions, she threw the mug of chamomile tea to the ground. It crashed, smashing into pieces and spilling over the cobblestones, startling Karine.

She hadn’t meant to do that.

But God, she’d wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried.

Sylvia looked upset, coming towards Karine with open arms like she might hug her.

Karine was already backing away.

“Look what you made me do—just leave me alone! Why won’t you leave me alone?”

She cried the whole way back to her room, and slammed the door behind her when she was finally alone again.

Funny.

Karine thought she’d run out of tears.

SEVEN

Roman could barely fucking stand it—returning to New York City as a married man, but alone.

Leaving Karine at the new facility, seeing the pain and anger in her face—when she refused to even look at him—it broke him. He’d known the second he walked out of there that it was the wrong choice. It was also the only one he had, and it was already too late. What was done was done.

He had no one to blame.

This was all on Roman.

That’s what made it worse.

Marky met him at the airport with a car, and Roman’s hand shook like a junkie’s would when he lit his cigarette. He’d needed to stay a couple extra days in Vegas just to finalize a few minor details that would keep Karine safe, and erase any of his footprints that he might have left behind that could lead to her, but then he was gone.

And broken.

“You all right, man?” Marky asked, taking the airport’s exit ramp without a glance over his shoulder as he merged. Someone behind them blew their horn, but his friend only laughed and hit the gas harder.

Roman pasted himself to the passenger side door, glaring out the window at the familiar streets that didn’t quite feel like home. He’d never been so unhappy to see New York. “No. I feel like someone’s broken every bone in my