Sylvia stood over me, furious, not frightened. “Get up,” she snapped. “Stop acting.”
Footsteps pounded in. David, then Mark. David took one look and didn’t rush to me. He frowned like the sight annoyed him.
“What happened?” he asked, as if he were stepping into a minor inconvenience.
“She slipped,” Sylvia said instantly. “Clumsy. Look at this mess.”
Mark’s face drained of color. “That’s… a lot of blood. We should call emergency services.”
“No,” David snapped, sharp and absolute. “No ambulance. The neighbors will talk.”
I stared at him, stunned by how cleanly he chose his reputation over my life.
“David,” I choked. “Call. Please. I’m losing the baby.”
He didn’t kneel. He didn’t hold me. He grabbed my arm and yanked as if pain could be ordered away.
“Get up,” he hissed. “Clean it. Then we’ll go somewhere if you’re still bleeding.”
Another gush. The world went white at the edges.
I reached for my phone with shaking fingers, because if he wouldn’t save me, I would.
“I’m calling for help,” I sobbed.
David’s eyes went dark. He snatched the phone and hurled it across the kitchen. It smashed against the wall and shattered.