Pain. So much pain.
Elizabeth pressed her face tightly into the satin pillowcase, her chest heaving as suffocating, silent sobs tore through her entire body. She squeezed her eyes shut until dark spots danced behind her eyelids, desperately trying to keep her frantic breathing low and muffled. A few doors down the hall, her five-year-old daughter, Jillyanna, was sleeping with a fragile heart that could not handle the stress of household terror. Elizabeth had to swallow her screams, forced to suffer in absolute, agonizing quiet.
"Why are you doing this to me, Anton?" she whimpered into the fabric, her voice ragged and raw from crying. "Why didn't you wait for me? Why didn't you talk to me first? Why didn't you trust me?! Why is this happening to us?!"
