My husband drugged me every night “so I could study better,” but one night I faked swallowing the pill and stayed motionless. He thought I was asleep. At 2:47 AM, he came in with gloves, a camera, and a black notebook. He didn’t touch me with love. He lifted my eyelid and whispered: “The memory still hasn’t returned.”
Marcus froze in front of the screen. For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t look like a doctor, or a husband, or a man in control of everything. He looked like a child caught with blood on his hands. “Turn that off,” Eleanor said. Her voice no longer sounded elegant. It sounded old….