Twice broken

Lena s POV

My chest tightened harder, every breath a war I was losing, panic surged me, my fingers fumbled for the inhaler.

Vision blurring, lungs screaming, the air around me felt thick and cruel, mocking me as I gasped. Choking on nothing, clawing on my throat.

Time slowed, heartbeat thundering in my ears, where was it? The inhaler I need. Now.

I realized that I was all by myself crawling on the bare floor, no one to lend me a helping hand, desperate for air. My abdomen pressed down on the cold floor.

Little drops of tears escaped my eyes,I don't know if it was the fear of dying and losing my precious life? Or the thought that this time I couldn't have made it.

Both actually.

I struggled more, it seemed like the more I struggled the weaker I got. Thankfully my phone was reachable, I picked it up and dialed his number, no response, I dialed a second time, but still no response.

Shit, he didn't pick.

But wait.

On second thought.

Girl if you don't do something real quick, your life is on the edge, if you die or live the choice is yours, my inner self hammered.

Think girl, where did you keep it? I wrestled my mind.

Suddenly, I remembered where it was.

The bag! Yes! It's there.

The bag was a few meters away from me, but it felt like a thousand miles. I was gradually losing both oxygen and strength.

I pulled my whole body harder this time, a last minute attempt, Is either I get it or nothing.

My leg hit something hard.

The vase flower slipped from the edge of the table, spinning mid-air and shattering with a piercing crash. Shards of glass scattered in every direction, but one jagged piece sliced through the air and embedded itself deep into my left leg.

Ouch! I let out a loud scream. The piece from the vase flower left a deep cut on my leg. It felt like I was hit by a hard rock, the pain spreading wildly.

I pushed myself one more time. This time I am determined to get it by all means.

There. I grabbed it. The bag.

I wheezed, gasping as my lungs refused to open, my hands shook wildly, scrabbling through my bag for the inhaler.

It was getting harder to think, harder to see, just air, I needed air

Blindly searching as the tightness in my chest threatened to crush me from the inside. Where is it? My lungs screamed.

Spots danced before my eyes, then finally - click.

The living room became blurry.

I wrapped my hand around the inhaler and took two desperate puffs.

Relieves bloomed like ice .I laid there for a few minutes, in order to regain my strength, which I lost while struggling for the inhaler.

I stood up limping, picking up the tiny pieces of the vase flower, squatting and groaning in pain.

But my leg was bleeding profusely, I needed to get it cleaned.

The first aid box, I suddenly paused, as the cold ran down my spine.

The first aid box was in his room, the one he forbade me from going.

Each time I had domestic accidents, he helps me with the first aid box , I had no idea when he'd return, I'm not sure I can risk my life waiting for him either, as the injuries hurt really bad.

Should I wait some more?

But I wasn't fine. As the tension on my leg increased, blood trickled down my shin from the deep cut I sustained while trying to get my inhaler.

I shouldn't go there. He warned me.

Still, I climbed.

Each step up the stairs echoed like betrayal.

What can go wrong ? After all, I'm his wife, he will understand that I need to treat my injury, he loves me. One disobedience won't kill! I thought.

I got there, gripped the door handle and pushed gently, but it was locked.

Shit! I murmured silently.

I realized he dropped a bunch of keys in our bedroom some night ago, thinking I was fast asleep.

I quickly rushed to our bedroom, bolting the pain on my leg.

I opened the drawer and scanned through. I found it. One mind told me to drop it but I didn't listen. I just wanted to be stubborn or disobey a little. I paused, Should I drop it and Wait for him? obviously NO.

I went back to the room and opened it, to my surprise, the room was empty. The only visible thing there was a closet, standing at the corner of the room.

I let out a silent smile, why will he forbid me from coming in here, just an empty room, what is so special? I thought, little did I know!

Maybe the first aid box is there, I will just clean my injury and live, he wouldn't notice anything, not even my presence, I thought to myself.

Not until I tried pulling the closet open and I realized that it was locked.

What is he hiding?

curiosity consumed me.

quickly, I ran to the door and checked the bunch of keys, which had seven keys on it. I tried five different keys but it didn't open, but the last one I tried clicked.

The first aid box was there, but what laid beneath it made my blood freeze.

I stepped closer. My Pulse pounding in my ears. My name was written neatly on the table LENA GRACE SMITH, bold and unmistakable.

My breath hitched again, but not from asthma this time. This was pure fear.

I reached for the first aid box with trembling hands, but the moment my fingers lifted it up, I froze.

I stumbled back, and that's when I saw it - a photo tucked beneath the first aid box, slightly folded, its edge Sticking out like it wanted to be found.

I pulled it free, with shaking hands. And froze.

Mrs. Carrow. My neighbor From three doors down. Always smiling. Always offering fresh-baked cookies and soft laughs.

Blood stains on her photo?

My mouth parted, but no sound came out. Mrs carrow had gone missing six weeks ago. The police shrugged it off. Maybe she traveled.

But this... this was no vacation.

I flipped through the others, my hand, now frantic, clumsy, desperate, more faces. Two other women. One man. All strangers except one.

A dark- skinned woman with a dimpled smile who once helped me carry groceries up the stairs. Gone without a trace three months ago.

Every blood stained photo told a story: they were dead.

And somehow I was still here, still breathing. Still Unaware of what I shared bed with every night.

My heart slammed against my ribs, I used the palm of my hands to cover my mouth while I let out a silent but loud scream, causing my palms to grasp all the scream.

I clutched to the edge of the closet, scanning through the closet for more evidence.

I caught sight of knives, little portable knives, I sniffed blood, fresh- blood, the small hit my nostrils, I swallowed hard, fighting the horrible taste of bile that threatened to pull out my throat.

A sound sent a chill down my spine, snapping me out of my horror.

Holy shit! He's back.