Part 3My Husband’s Betrayal

In the days that followed, the “night vigil” became a routine torture. The deliberate sounds from behind the curtain, the wounds on my back scabbing over only to split open again. A numb, relentless pain.

Then, one afternoon, Adrian returned with a small, dirty puppy.

“Found him on the road. He looked pathetic,” he said, casually setting the dog on the ground.

That dog… it was Buddy! The dog Adrian and I had raised for five years!

He was thinner, his coat dull, but I would never mistake those eyes.

Buddy yelped with excitement, squirming out of Adrian’s grasp and stumbling toward me, nuzzling me with his wet nose.

Adrian watched, a faint smile playing on his lips, but his tone was flat. “It seems this animal has taken a liking to you. In that case, you can be responsible for him.”

What was this? Was this his way of giving me just enough hope to keep me going, so their little play could continue?

Whatever his reason, Buddy’s arrival was a sliver of light in my numb existence.

He would lie quietly at my feet as I tended to my wounds, licking my fingers with his warm tongue. When I woke from nightmares in the middle of the night, he would jump into my arms, calming me. He was the only real warmth in this endless suffering.

I thought that with Adrian’s implicit permission, Vivian would leave Buddy and me alone.

I was wrong.

A few days later, she found an excuse, claiming that my "resentful glare" while cleaning revealed a "treacherous heart." She had me tied to a tree in the courtyard and whipped in front of everyone.

The whip landed on old wounds. I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. I was used to this charade. I just had to endure it.

But this time, Buddy shot out and bit the hem of Vivian’s dress.

“Aaaah!” she shrieked dramatically.

“You animal!”

Adrian’s face contorted with rage. He grabbed a thick wooden stick from nearby and, without a moment’s hesitation, swung it at Buddy.

A single, short yelp. Buddy’s small body was thrown through the air, landing in a heap on the ground. He convulsed for a moment, then lay still.

“Kill it! Drag this mad dog away and kill it!” Vivian cried, collapsing into Adrian’s arms. “I’ve had a terrible fright. A bowl of dog stew will be just the thing to calm my nerves!”

“No… please, no!”

The words tore from my throat, a desperate, broken scream from someone who had never begged for herself. “My lady! I beg you! Spare him! He didn’t know any better! Hit me instead! Give me a hundred lashes! Just please, don’t kill him! Please!”

I struggled against the ropes, which cut deeper into my flesh, blood trickling down my arms. I looked at Adrian, my eyes filled with a plea I had never shown before. “Master… I’m begging you… he’s just a dog…”

Five years. Buddy had been with us for five years. Didn’t Adrian feel even a flicker of pity?

But…

“It disturbed the mistress. It deserves to die.”

He spoke the words with chilling indifference.

Then, as I watched in disbelief, he personally took the guard’s sword.

The blade rose.

And fell.

A few drops of warm blood splattered my face.

The world went gray. All sound faded.

All that was left was that blinding splash of red.

But Vivian wasn’t satisfied. “My love,” she cooed, “isn’t this wretched servant heartbroken over her little pet? Then let her have a taste of it! Tonight, bring her a bowl of its meat, and make sure she eats every bite!”

That night, a bowl of stewed meat was placed before me.

“Eat up. If you don’t, the mistress will find new ways to punish you.”

I stared at the bowl.

My heart felt like it had turned to stone.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

I picked up the bowl and forced the meat down my throat.

A violent wave of nausea surged through me, and I threw it all up.

The “guard” grunted in disgust, locked the door, and left to report my compliance.

I sat at the table, my eyes a vast, empty expanse.

I have to find the exit. Now.

I cannot stay in this hell for one second longer.