Chapter 2 - THE SOUND OF THE BONE
Ethan came home drunk at 11:18 on a Thursday.
Lena knew the exact time because she was sitting at the kitchen counter
looking at the banking app on her phone when the garage door opened.
She had transferred eight thousand dollars from their joint account that
afternoon.
The moment Ethan entered the kitchen, he knew.
“You moved money.”
“It was for Mom.”
“I said we were discussing it tomorrow.”
“She doesn’t have tomorrow.”
He tossed his keys onto the counter.
“You went behind my back.”
“It is our money.”
His laugh frightened her.
“Our money.”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
“You don’t earn anything.”
Lena’s face changed.
She had stopped working two years earlier because Ethan said her design
clients made their schedule impossible.
Her late father’s investments still produced income.
Ethan managed most of it.
“That doesn’t mean it’s yours.”
He grabbed her phone.
Lena reached for it.
“Give it back.”
He lifted it away.
“Who else did you talk to?”
“No one.”
“You always talk to someone when you get brave.”
“Ethan.”
She tried to move past him.
He caught her left arm.
Hard.
“Let go.”
“Look at me.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Then stop pulling.”
Lena twisted away.
Ethan twisted back.
Harder.
A loud crack broke through the kitchen.
For one impossible second, both of them froze.
Then pain exploded through Lena’s arm.
She screamed and dropped to the floor.
Ethan stared down at her, drunk rage mixing with shock.
Then his face changed.
Cold.
“No one is coming to save you.”
Lena crawled.
Not toward the front door.
Too far.
Bathroom.
She pushed herself with one arm across the hallway, got inside, and
slammed the door.
Locked it.
Ethan hit the door almost immediately.
“OPEN THE DOOR!”
Lena slid down the wall, clutching her broken arm against her body.
Another hit.
The door shook.
“LENA!”
She looked at the small bathroom window.
Sealed.
Too narrow.
Another slam.
The lock frame cracked.
Lena’s purse lay near the vanity where she had dropped it earlier.
She crawled toward it.
One hand.
Zipper.
Lipstick.
Wallet.
Keys.
Her fingers found the hidden pocket.
Black card.
Another crash.
Wood split around the lock.
Lena stared at the number through tears.
Not yet.
Not bad enough.
Not tonight.
Every lie she had told herself collapsed at once.
She dialed.
Ethan hit the door again.
“OPEN IT!”
Lena pressed call.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
Her eyes closed.
Then:
Click.
A woman answered.
“Blackline emergency. Are you safe enough to speak?”
Lena’s eyes snapped open.
“No.”
The bathroom door cracked again.
On the phone, the woman’s voice changed instantly.
“Tell me your first name.”
“Lena.”
“Lena, listen carefully. Is the person hurting you inside the home right
now?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a weapon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you injured?”
“My arm.”
Another slam.
The lock began tearing free.
The woman said:
“Police are being dispatched. Do not open the door. I’m staying with
you.”
Lena stared at the black card in her shaking hand.
For the first time in four years, someone else knew what was happening
before Ethan could explain it.
May you like
Then the bathroom door split near the frame.
And Ethan’s hand reached through.
