A bang from the parking lot makes me flinch. The backfire of an engine. A car door slams. Then another.
My heart leaps into my throat. I’m flipping down the blinds again. A loud rap on the front door has me screaming, clutching my chest.
I press my palms to the wood, forehead dropping to it, and force a breath in.
“Y-Yes?”
I pause for only a moment before a familiar sound of rattling keys makes me relax.
“Sorry, I’ve got it. Hang on.” Apollo’s deep bass rings through, soothing my discomfort. When he enters, wild-eyed and forcing a smile, he grabs my arms and pulls me in for a warm hug. His lips press to my temple as he whispers, “I love you. I do.”
But his voice is all wrong.
“I love?—”
“Mrs. Griffin?”
And that’s when they enter. Uninvited.
Three large men in white scrubs barrel into our apartment behind my husband. When I look back at Apollo with a question on my face, a line of tears fills his lower lashes. He pinches his nose.
“What’s this about?” I ask shakily.
“Mrs. Griffin, you’ll be coming with us. Don’t make a scene.”
I back up toward the bedroom, hands searching for anything to hold on to. But I only meet air. “Who are you? Going where? Apollo?”
“Baby, I’m so… I’m so sorry.”
“Come with us, miss.” The men approach like lions circling prey.
I hold up my fists, ready to strike, ready to unleash as I let the expression of betrayal settle on my face. “I’m not goinganywherewith you!”
They pounce, and I scratch. I hiss. I claw. Just like on Thriller Thursday when Apollo grabbed me. I go fucking feral.
But it’s absolutely no use.
One of them has me locked tight, as the others fit me into a straitjacket. The Velcro rips tight across my chest, stealing the next breath before I can take it. But I continue to wiggle in their grips.
“Either this, or you take a shot of medicine. Which do you want?”
“Neither!” I scream.
“Okay, then you’ll get both.”
But as one pulls out a syringe, I shake my head. “I’ll be good. I’ll stop.”
Besides…I’mexhausted. Muscles can’t even function any longer. Two of the men pick me up and haul me toward the open door.
Apollo’s face looks crushed as we pass him. Tears spill over onto his cheeks. I can hardlylookat him. But I do. Enough to scream, “How could you do this to me?”
He flips around and faces the wall, shoulders shaking. His head drops into his hands.
Panic sets in as the image of my husband slips away from me. Especially as the night takes over my sight. And everything grows dark. Even darker when I’m tossed onto the back bench seat of a van with one of the men next to me.
The other two get in front. Muttering low, they curse and complain about their duty, but mainly ignore me. And I’m grateful for that.
My pulse races as we approach the hospital. The lights of the main tower glow like an ominous hellscape. I’ve never thought of this place, which was meant for healing, to be so evil.
