Brian clutched his cheek. He touched it once, then stared at the blood on his fingers in disbelief.
"You're vicious, Eleanor. You really are."
I shoved him away hard and staggered toward the bedroom. The drug was coursing through me now, turning my limbs to cotton, draining every ounce of strength.
"Mervyn. Come help me."
He stepped out obediently and draped my arm over his shoulder.
Brian's gaze locked onto him, eyes bloodshot, and he hurled a glass that shattered at Mervyn's feet.
"Get the hell out."
"This is my home. Mine and my wife's. What the hell are you?"
"Keep meddling in our marriage, and don't blame me when I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing."
Brian was livid.
So livid that every shred of composure he'd once prided himself on had evaporated completely.
Mervyn put on an awkward expression and rose hesitantly, as if to leave.
But I wrapped my arms around him from behind.
"Stay."
"You're sleeping here tonight."
With my arms still around Mervyn's waist, I walked into the bedroom without sparing Brian so much as a glance.
Behind me, Brian's voice erupted into a string of furious curses. Something about how if I dared make a fool of him, he'd divorce me.