Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT HE DECIDED I WOULD “CRASH”
The final assault began at home.
Not in the car.
The car was where Derek tried to turn it into a story.
I had spent the afternoon with Simone preparing for the federal interview.
When I returned, Derek was sitting in our living room with Joanne.
My handbag was open on the coffee table.
My federal letter was beside it.
“You went through my bag?”
Derek stood.
“You’re meeting them Monday.”
“Yes.”
“Without me.”
“You are represented separately.”
“I am your husband.”
“This is not a marriage counseling session.”
Joanne intervened.
“Rachel, please. He is terrified.”
“So am I.”
Derek laughed.
“Of what?”
I stared at him.
He knew.
Then I said it.
“You.”
Joanne covered her mouth.
Derek became completely still.
“Say that again.”
“I’m afraid of you.”
His face changed.
I had crossed the final line.
Not insulted him.
Named him.
He stepped toward me.
I stepped backward.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“Where?”
“Not your business.”
“Mason’s?”
I almost laughed.
“You need that story so badly.”
“What story?”
“The affair.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“No. You know what you’re doing.”
I picked up my handbag.
He grabbed the strap.
I pulled.
The bag tore open.
My keys hit the floor.
Joanne said:
“Both of you stop.”
Symmetry again.
Then Derek shoved me.
Hard enough that I struck the edge of the hallway table.
My cheek hit the wall.
I dropped.
Joanne screamed his name.
Derek stood over me looking shocked.
Then he did something worse than apologizing.
He started planning.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
I stared.
“You need to be checked.”
Joanne nodded too quickly.
“Yes. Yes, that’s right.”
Then Derek looked at me.
“You fell.”
I felt cold.
“What?”
“You tripped over the bag and hit the wall.”
Joanne looked at him.
He looked back.
Something passed between them.
Not agreement.
History.
I remembered Olivia’s story about Joanne’s wrist.
I pushed myself upright.
“No.”
Derek’s face hardened.
“You need medical care.”
“I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t need police showing up over an accident.”
There it was.
I reached for my phone.
Derek took it.
Joanne whispered:
“Rachel, just go to the hospital.”
I looked at her.
“You did this too.”
Her eyes filled.
She knew what I meant.
The wrist.
The story.
The years.
Derek insisted I drive because he said he had taken anxiety medication and did not want to be behind the wheel.
I should have refused.
Instead, disoriented and frightened, I got into the sedan because the hospital was eight minutes away and I wanted bright lights and other people.
Derek came with me.
At the emergency entrance, I stopped the car.
Then I said:
“I’m telling them.”
That was when he grabbed my hair.
Everything after that became the scene Mason witnessed.
The steering wheel.
The threat.
The fake crash.
May you like
The attempt to keep me in the seat.
And the moment I finally opened the door and contradicted him while someone else could hear.
