The Sick Wife, Lost Loretta [top 10 motivational books .TXT] 📗

“I’m sorry about what happened to you at our hospital,” Veronica says with a frown. “I have never seen it with my own eyes… I’ve read stories about it happening elsewhere, but you never think it’s going to happen at home. I just can’t believe that Mike would do that to you.”

“Which part?” I ask her.

“All of it,” she answers. “I know a few stories where women who were in comas for years ended up getting pregnant. But I never imagined that Mike…”

I shudder at the memory. “This is going to be a horrible thing to say, but I’m so glad the pregnancy wasn’t viable. If it was a normal, healthy pregnancy… I think Gabe could have convinced me to keep it.”

“Would he have wanted that?” Veronica asks.

“I don’t know. But I think so, yes. He wants a child so badly.”

“So does Milla,” Veronica says. “She loves coming over to play with my daughter. They get along really well. I don’t want to have to tell my little girl that something happened to her Aunt Milly.”

The cute nickname makes my heart ache. “We’ll find her. What’s the next spot?”

“There are a few other spots nearby,” Veronica says. “But I have another idea of where he could take her. It’s this place owned by one of the other doctors, where everyone likes to go on vacation in Vermont…”

Chapter 42 Milla

“I’ve got bad news for you, Milla,” Mike says softly. “The police are looking for us, so we’re going to have to move to a different location.”

“The police? Why?” I ask him hoarsely. This news gives me hope.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Mike answers. “Did you talk to anyone? Is anyone looking for you? Was there anywhere you were supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him groggily. I almost say Veronica’s name, but I don’t want to put her in any sort of danger. “Probably my landlord. Or superintendent. If they went into my apartment to do repairs—they would have noticed that my cactus hasn’t been watered. That’s sus.”

Mike stares at me in confusion.

I giggle. “Highly suspicious cactus. A sus cactus.”

Today’s cocktail of drugs have me slurring my words and feeling high. I’m laughing a lot, and missing my cactus. I shouldn’t have said all those mean things about my good little plant not being enough company for me. Not being as soft and huggable as a person. Lots of people in the world don’t have a cactus to love—I know I’m lucky. Also, when humans are like Mike, who wouldn’t prefer to spend their days with a cactus? It’s clearly the superior being.

Besides, Mike shoves needles into me all the time. I would rather hug my cactus.

If I get out of this alive, I’m going to cuddle the shit out of my cactus.

“Okay,” Mike says slowly. “I’m just going to pack an overnight bag and get us into the car.”

Car. Hmm. I’m confident that if I can just try to hang on to some bit of sanity… I can make some sort of move to get free. Maybe I can cause a car crash and escape.

Or do I want to be a good and patient girl and wait for the police to find me and help me?

The thought makes me laugh so much that I hiccup.

No. They should have found me by now. What if they never find me?

I need to smash things. Make something go boom. Do anything at all on my own. I need to try.

I am in the passenger seat now, and cars are passing by in every direction like a blur of shiny color. I really don’t know where we’re going, and I can’t even clearly see what’s happening around me. Mike injected me with more drugs, but thankfully, they haven’t completely knocked me out. I think this is a pretty rare opportunity.

He hasn’t let me out of the house in days. Most of the time, I can’t even move from the bed.

A car is a very small, confined space. A fast-moving vehicle, and if I can just time my attack correctly… I can cause a crash and get us both sent to the hospital. But can I even lift my arm enough?

I can’t even see what’s happening around me.

If I do this wrong, I could accidentally shove us into oncoming traffic, and create a head-on collision so bad that we are killed instantly. Along with the passengers in the other vehicle. As a nurse, I’ve seen enough mangled bodies after serious wrecks. There could be kids involved. I could cause lots of innocent people to be hurt.

And then who would be the real monster?

The idea makes me pause. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want anyone else to die. Or even be injured unnecessarily. Is it actually wisest for me to just wait for the police?

But I’m so sick of waiting. I’ve done so much waiting in my life.

I waited around for Gabriel, and I lost him. Sometimes you need to stop waiting and take action. And risk being hurt.

So, I try to wait and wait for the right moment. And I try hard to focus on what’s going on around me. It’s useless. The world is a blur. I give up on perfect timing and I reach out to grab the steering wheel and shove us into the path of a turning vehicle.

But when I lift my arm, with all the force I can manage, my fingers just barely graze the steering wheel. My arm falls on the center console, lifeless.

I’m still too heavily sedated to do anything.

Dammit.

By the end of our drive, when Mike starts carrying our bags into the house, the sedatives are wearing off slightly. I am able to see more clearly, and shuffle around in the passenger seat just a tiny bit. If I can just calculate my moves correctly… I wait until he has entered the house, before I push