The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 2

Petty kept her head down, a messy curtain of hair hiding half her face. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, but the housekeeper could feel the sadness radiating from her.

“Maybe it’s just…”

The housekeeper tried to soften things, but Petty cut her off with a wave. “I’m going to shower. Bring the first-aid kit up to my room, please.”

She watched Petty trudge up the stairs, her steps unsteady. The housekeeper let out a quiet sigh and went to look for the kit, just like Petty asked.

Passing the master bedroom, she glanced inside. Of course, Petty wasn’t in there.

She was in the room next door.

Who would have guessed? After three years of marriage, Petty and Franco still slept in separate rooms.

Steam drifted through the bathroom, fogging up the mirror. Petty stared at her reflection, at the angry bruises blooming across her skin. Her lips quivered. Her fingers, stiff and shaky, clawed at her clothes and yanked them off. She tossed them into the trash, like she couldn’t stand the feel of them one second longer.

It was like all the strength left her in an instant. She slid down to the floor, landing hard.

A while later, faint sobs came from the bathroom, but when the housekeeper listened closer, all she could hear was the sound of water rushing from the shower.

When she finished, Petty brushed off the housekeeper’s offer to help with her injuries. She just sat on the sofa, dabbed some ointment on her wounds without much care, then crawled into bed.

The moment her eyes closed, flashes from last night rushed back—those fists, that twisted grin on a stranger’s face.

Her bones still ached.

She rolled over and tugged open the nightstand drawer. Her fingers fumbled at the back until she found a bottle of pills. She twisted the cap off, shook one into her mouth, and swallowed it dry.

The sleeping pill hit fast. Petty drifted off, but even in sleep, her brow stayed furrowed, sweat beading on her forehead. Her hand clung to the edge of the blanket, knuckles white, fingers trembling.

“Help me…”

Caught in a nightmare, Petty was ghost-pale, her slight body shaking, tears slipping from her closed eyes.

The dark room stayed silent. No one answered.

She didn’t wake up until evening the next day.

The bruises on her face had faded, thanks to some special ointment, but her body still throbbed. When she tried to get up, pain shot through her and she almost hit the floor.

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