“I was busy!” he yelled, stopping a few feet away from me. “You always do this! You always manufacture some drama when you don’t want to do your chores!”
“I miscarried, Leo,” I stated flatly, looking directly into his eyes, searching for a flicker of a human soul. “The baby… our baby is dead. The doctor said the physical stress caused a placental abruption. I bled out on the floor you made me scrub.”
For a fraction of a second, the room went dead silent. The video game menu music looped cheerfully in the background. I thought, foolishly, that I saw a flash of regret in Leo’s eyes. I thought the reality of the tragedy might penetrate his narcissism.
Instead, his upper lip curled into a vicious sneer.
“Bullshit,” Leo spat, crossing his arms. “You’re lying. You’re just making excuses because you forgot to buy groceries and you knew I’d be pissed. You probably just had a heavy period. You’re pathetic. You can’t even carry a child right.”
The sheer audacity of the cruelty took my breath away.
Smack.
The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet house.