“I-I’ll tell you what you want to know!” She stammered.

 
The tall man dressed in white scrubs walked over to her, adjusting his latex gloves around his hands. She was on a stiff, cold metal bed; a leather belt tightly strapped her, one that made struggling to get loose a mere waste of time. She didn’t try though, too afraid and confused. “...J...Just please... promise to let me go.” She shuddered.

He touched her sweaty forehead, moving a string of hair with a flick of his finger. He stared gauntly, intently to examine the curves of her brows, the extent of the tip of her nose slightly over her parting lips.

“...Very well then,” he addressed her from behind his vomit green surgical mask. “I want to hear everything... Mrs. Marks,” he gritted sternly, sarcastically.

The woman let out a stealthy breath with a sleep like nod. She closed her eyes then, trying to remember the intricate details of that bright, sunny morning some three months ago.

“I went out that Tuesday,” her voice trailed. “I needed groceries so I went to the market. I-it was a fairly nice day and...” She shut her eyes as if to experience again the warmth she had felt.

“Most of the wives on the block,” she continued. “Seemed to have synchronized their shopping. I had a problem carrying all of the things I bought. I,” she searched for the words. “I was alone again. Again, my husband wasn’t there to help me.”

Her eventual sigh and those few words revealed a hint of unwarranted sadness. She opened her eyes, tried to analyze the setting, the binding situation.

The room was shrouded in deep darkness, but for a slit of light near her bed. She could make out shifting shapes and objects. She knew the man stood directly in front of her, watching, listening from that bone cold bed. There was a table that occupied a small amount of space on the right where the slit of light emanated; her watcher frequented the table, moving back and forth like a lamed leopard between it and the bed. He was busy at the table, moving things, picking things up nervously, and placing them down again. There was a deafening silence between her last words and that of the man tinkering at the table.

It was at that moment the nervous silence gave rise to the engulfing humidity in the poorly ventilated room, which created a thickness that can gently clinged to the skin like a Saran wrap.
“So a man helped me,” her voice quivered with worries. But then thought of her sandy blonde hero of that Tuesday sketched a faint smile on her face.

Her watcher gazed with intense fire blazing in his eyes. It made him lose the cool composure which kept his hands steady. His muscles stiffened with rage, but then he released the tension with a slap of the back of his hand to Mrs. Marks lips. Her tears ran wild to the side of her face as she sucked in the saltiness of the blood from her lips.

He felt sorry that he had hit her, but the circumstance warranted his violent reaction.

“Continue woman,” he wasted no time giving command as he drew closer to her. She tried looking at him but her vision blurred as tears rolled down the side of her face, mixing with the blood that seeped through the small cuts, as it made its way down her face. She smelled a slight whiff of cologne, in fact a very specific cologne in which she had bought her husband for their anniversary. She then thought about her husband and if she would be able to see him again. 

“... A-as I was saying, he relieved me of that burden and so I thanked him. He even gave me a ride to the house... he was such a kind man. Again I thanked him. But as I continued on into my house, I realized something... I was terribly lonely... So I invited him to dinner. He... was an amazing guest, always so polite and interesting. He was actually so great that I kept inviting him over... trying to fill my loneliness. And it worked...”

She paused giving the man a hurt yet composed look.
“And? What else did you do with your guest, hm?” He began to speak with a hint of anger seeping through each word. “Continue speaking.”

“I just want to know why I am here again, being held against my will, by a man whom I do not even know.” For a while the man just stood there thinking then began to chuckle a little.

“My dear Carol, you obviously remember why you are here... but if I must remind you my sweet, then here is a refresher... You are here because you had an affair with a man who clearly is not your husband, correct?"

"...Y..yes." She hesitated but nodded. "But what does it matter to you?"

"Everything." He spoke, leaving a confusing atmosphere for Carol. Realizing she still had no idea, he stepped closer and removed the mask revealing a shockingly recognizable face. A gasp escaped her chapped dry lips only causing the man to grin.

"John?!" She couldn't believe it. It was her husband. The man she loved and married yet foolishly betrayed. Her eyes burned trying to hold back the tears that fought to come out. Her attempt was effortless and a shower of the salty liquid rushed out. She knows what she did was wrong of course, but she didn’t expect him to know or to react like this. John wrapped his sweaty and cracked fingers firmly around her chin, and brought it closer to his leaving a few inches of space between them. She could feel his hot, whiskey ridden breath creep along her skin. He drank, which means this must've hurt him. Feeling his breath and knowing how he felt made her conscience practically strangle her with guilt. "I'm sorry John... I truly am."

"Oh really? Then why?! Why would you have an affair even though you knew I was going to come back..." John turned away from her but then slowly turned back around. "You're pregnant aren't you?" Shocked that he realized she slowly nodded her head. "Did you continue to see him after... what happened?"

"No. O...only once.."

"Very well then, you will be free to go soon..." He went over to the table and picked up the same syringe he was looking at from before. He walked back over to Carol and held up the syringe. “Be very still and don’t worry...”

Carol hesitated but nodded because she trusted him, “Okay.” He slowly injected the needle into her stomach. “W-what are you doing?!” She yelled worriedly. It was too late to undo whatever was done. Carol groaned in agonizing pain. She was in so much pain that she was unable to speak. Within hours she had an extremely bloody and painful delivery of the not fully developed fetus. Once she regained her strength, she once again lost it from the consistent crying. John turned away, as the event unfolded, still gripping onto the syringe. He was pleased knowing that he had gotten rid of the abomination that was almost created, however it still hurt knowing the woman he loved was in all of that pain.

“I’m sorry but it had to be done.” He whispered.