She leaned aggressively across the crystal, her eyes black and flat. “You are an ungrateful guest who continually forgets her station.”
I snapped my head toward Aaron, my eyes silently begging him to intervene, to be a husband, to be a father. He took a long, maddeningly slow sip of his wine, his gaze focused entirely on the wall behind my head.
“Do what my mother says, Rebecca,” he instructed, his tone chillingly even. “Do not embarrass us in front of Paul.”
And then, it happened. A sudden, blinding, serrated knife of pain slashed horizontally across my lower abdomen, entirely stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I dropped the back of the chair, pressing both my hands hard against the swell of my stomach, letting out a ragged gasp. “Aaron… something is wrong. It hurts. It hurts badly.”
Judith pointed a stiff, manicured finger toward the swinging kitchen door. “Move.”
I turned, my vision swimming with dark, creeping spots of static. Every single step I took sent a shockwave of agony radiating up my spine. I breached the kitchen archway, desperately reaching out to grab the edge of the marble island just to keep from collapsing onto the tile.
Behind me, I heard the rapid, heavy clicking of Judith’s heels. Her voice was suddenly right at my ear, louder, vibrating with unhinged malice. “I told you to move!”
I didn’t even see her hands. I only felt the brutal, concussive force of them slamming into my upper back. She shoved me with her entire body weight, striking hard enough to physically lift me off my feet.
