But her hate for me is growing a hundredfold by the minute. It’s a toxic combination of past triggers, her own insecurities, and Graham.
Graham, who looks at me more than he looks at her.
Graham, who sneaks into my room in the darkness.
Graham, who refuses to sleep in her bed, but would jump into mine if I just crooked a finger.
And despite myself, it makes me feel powerful. All my life, I’ve had absolutely no power over anyone. Especially her. Really, it’s her fault. If she hadn’t been so cruel to me since my early teens, I would have gone to her with this. I would have told her, “Hey, your husband is a cheater with wandering hands and eyes,” and maybe she wouldn’t have tried to kill me.
The bedroom door clicks open.Huh. It seems he came earlier than usual tonight.
I force my eyes to shut and my body to relax, pretending to be asleep yet again. Because what the fuck would happen if I confronted him? I need him. If he throws me out, I’d be homeless. The only reason I have a roof over my head and food in my belly is because of his weird, dark fascination with me. Especially now that two of my three jobs have unexpectedly dropped me, for seemingly no reason at all.
The minute that fascination ends and he no longer has a use for me, he’ll throw me to the wolves. Valeria wouldn't voice a single complaint; it would probably be the happiest day of her life. It’s him who wants me here, not her. And that should have been her first red flag.
I’m violently snapped out of my thoughts by a pain so sharp in my scalp that my eyes instantly fly open. My mouth parts to scream, but a frail hand claps over my lips.
“Not. A. Sound,” Valeria hisses directly into my face.
Her face is completely makeup-free, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her looking so tired, with dark circles visible beneath her eyes. She bares her teeth at me, the insanity that lives inside her coming out to play. But I fear that I am not the same woman I was a week ago, before the fire. And that’s not a good thing. Insanity needs complete obedience in its face, orit turns deadly quick. If madness isn’t met with a submissive “You’re right” and “I’m sorry,” it gets ugly fast.
But the small pulses of power Graham has been feeding me have made me brazen.
I grab her wrist, forcing her hand away from my mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.
The hand she still has buried in my hair yanks my head back and forth in a rage. Her breath comes out in manic pants as she battles the devil living in the pits of her stomach. It’s clear the devil is winning.
“You little lying bitch. You think I haven’t noticed the way Graham looks at you? That he’s the one who bought you that dress? Or that he’s been sneaking into your room every single night?” she vitriols, the pure hatred leaking off her and straight into my skin like toxic uranium.
How the fuck am I going to get out of this room alive?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stutter, trying to avoid her gaze, but it’s impossible with her fingers knotted in my hair, forcing my face mere inches from hers.
“You’re still fucking lying! I know everything that happens between these walls,” she sneers, her spit hitting my face. “The staff here know exactly who the madam of this mansion is, Maya. They do anything to stay on my good side.”
Okay. So there’s no way out of this. I swallow hard and start praying for an easy death. I just hope she won’t try to torch me alive this time.
“It’s not my fault, Valeria. I don’t know why you’re directing your anger at me,” I whisper before I can stop it. “It’s your husband who won’t leave me alone.”
She laughs, and it grates on my very last nerve. I’ve had enough. I’ve had more than enough of her laughing at my pain, of her blaming me for things that are just not my fucking fault.
“You seriously expect me to believe your pathetic little lies? What exactly about you could have drawn his attention except your disgusting damsel-in-distress act? You’re as interesting to look at as a printer, Maya. Why would he leave a woman like me… and go to you? Your flat chest? Your squeaky, pathetic voice? I hate to break it to you, but you’re fucking ugly.”
She’s already going to kill me either way; I might as well return her digs for once in my miserable life.
“I don’t know, Valeria,” I mutter, my heart beating out of my chest. “But unfortunately, something about you just isn’t enough for him. Since the very first moment you introduced him to me, he’s had his eyes on me. You can call me ugly as much as you want, but at the end of the day, your husband is the one dying to get into my bed, and dying to stay out of yours.”
An animalistic shriek rips from her throat, her face contorting into something completely monstrous. “You parasitic little whore!” she screams, her hands flying from my hair to my throat, her manicured nails digging deep into my skin as she tries to choke the life out of me. “He doesn’t look at you because he wants you! You’re nothing but a stray dog he brought home out of pity!”
“Then why does he touch me, Valeria?” I choke out, gasping for air, slapping her hands away. Yet, the words that come out of my mouth are enraging her, and I know that. Maybe it’s a subconscious urge pushing me to make her crash out more, so I can be dead already and done with this fucking misery. “Why does he touch me while he won't even look at you?”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Blinded by psychotic rage, her hands scramble across my nightstand until they wrap around a ceramic vase sitting near the edge. She brings it crashing down directly on top of my head.
Crack.
“Get out! Get out of my house!” Valeria screams.
