Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“What else do you remember?” I ask with a tight voice.
It’s pointless to try to make her believe none of that happened or that it’s a play of her imagination. I never felt comfortable exploiting her mental state in that manner anyway, not even if it was for her sake.
“I remember everything. The way you made me marry you. How, when I was at the altar and contemplated running away, you reminded me that you killed someone for me and would snap my neck if I posed as any form of a problem for you.” She sniffles, a tear falling down her cheek. “You threatened me with murder on my wedding day! How could you do that to me?”
“Because I couldn’t afford to let you run away.”
“Afraid of people gossiping if I left you stranded at the altar?”
“Afraid that was my last chance to have you.”
“You mean possess me? Own me?”
It might have started that way, yes, but it’s evolved since then, especially after she lost her memory. Ava has become an integral part of my life I cannot survive without and that makes her a weakness, a liability, a loose thread anyone could exploit and use against me.
All this time, I’ve been battling with the notion of cutting that thread and ridding myself of the hazard she poses, but every time, I come to the conclusion that I refuse to imagine my life without her sunshine, pink-themed existence in it.
So I doubled down on my efforts. Attempted to erase the past, her illness, and everything that could turn her situation murkier.
“I’m not a thing you play with, then toss away once you’re bored, Eli.” Tears stream down her cheeks as she taps her chest with bloody fingers. “I feel. I have emotions and a heart that’s been broken far too many times but refuses to die already. I’m done giving you liberty of it. Done dancing to your tune, demands, and controlling behavior.”
“Is that all you remember? Demands and controlling behavior?”
“I remember you made me listen to a conversation between my parents where they were discussing my deteriorating state. Mama wanted to have me admitted to the institute, but Papa disagreed and wanted to change my therapist. You did that on purpose so I’d feel guilty about being the reason for their quarrel and pose no objection to the guardianship transfer to you. You demanded I stop drinking, and when I didn’t comply, you tied me up and forced me to get sober. I remember you ordering me to take my meds regularly, and when I refused, you locked me up in the psyche ward for months until I was begging you to take me out. You changed my therapist, separated me from the friends I partied with, and blacklisted me from all the clubs in the UK. You put a tracker on my phone and forbid me from driving again. You had people following me everywhere. I wasn’t allowed to drink, party, or even go out alone, and my only companions were your people, my parents, your parents, Ari and Cecy. You transformed my world into a gilded cage, so yes, all I remember is demands and controlling behavior.”
She’s crying now. The longer she spoke, the more broken her voice turned, until she could barely talk at the end.
Everything she remembers happened way before her latest episode that ended in amnesia. Does that mean she doesn’t recall the trigger?
Is she blocking that out on purpose?
Dr. Blaine said that Ava, like any neurodivergent person who’s prone to trauma, strongly emphasizes the negative over the positive, and in some instances might choose to completely erase any good moments in favor of fitting reality into her perceived narrative.
If my wife thinks I’m the big bad wolf who ruined her life and built her a pretty gilded cage, there’s no way for me to change that perception with words. The more I insist on altering her version, the more paranoid she’ll turn, and her brain might shut down as a consequence.
I made that mistake before she fell down the stairs and lost her memory. I tried explaining that, yes, I forced her to marry me, but everything else happened for a different reason than what she believed.
My wife couldn’t handle the truth, and the whole debacle ended in tragedy. So I will not, under any circumstances, attempt that route again.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Her pained voice and tear-streaked face are no different than a shard of glass being stabbed into my chest.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask with feigned nonchalance.
“An excuse? An explanation? An attempt to make me believe I imagined things wrong and that I’m more mentally unstable than I thought. Won’t you make me question myself as usual? Aren’t you an expert in manipulation and gaslighting?”