Don't Fall In Love

William walked into the messy bedroom and saw me cleaning up the cake debris. "Are you looking for the music box?" he asked.

I froze, my heart racing as I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

"You took it," he accused, gripping my shoulders tightly and looking down at me. "Michael gave you that piece of junk, and you treat it like it's gold. I gave you diamond jewelry, and you tossed it aside!"

I fought to break free from his grip, keeping my gaze on the floor as I mopped. "That's his keepsake. It's not the same."

William seemed irritated by my words, leaning in closer to whisper, "Do you want that music box?"

I took a step back, my expression blank. "What do you want from me?"

William glanced at Grace, a twisted smile creeping across his face. "When she and I are together later, you'll just watch, okay?"

I raised my hand, wanting to slap that smug face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Most of the things Michael had given me had already been destroyed or tossed aside by William. The music box was the last memory I had of him.

William dragged me to the bedroom door, casually unbuttoning his shirt.

Grace, hidden under a blanket, poked him in the side. "Jane's still here."

William leaned down to kiss her cheek, his voice low. "Doesn't this make it even more thrilling?"

I stood frozen, my eyes darting around the room. The ringing in my ears blurred the line between reality and a nightmare. I felt like I was falling into flames again.

Sadly, the Michael who had rushed in to save me was gone.

William roughly tore at Grace's dress, his mouth hungrily attacking hers in a fit of rage. His movements were aggressive and relentless, just as he had always been with me, now fully unleashed on Grace.

I leaned against the doorframe, but a wave of nausea hit me, and I couldn't hold back the vomit.

William noticed something was wrong and immediately pulled away from Grace.

He shook my light frame, demanding, "Are you pregnant?"

Grace sat up, her disheveled appearance making her look like she had just emerged from a freezer.

She and William always took precautions, even going so far as to have her swallow birth control pills right in front of him for peace of mind. She knew their relationship was built on mutual benefit.

But William's indulgence had only fueled her desires. She wanted to be William's wife and craved all of his love for herself.

I threw up all over the place, gritting my teeth as I pushed his hand away. "I'm not pregnant. Just give me back the music box when the time comes."

William's expression darkened, his chest rising and falling with barely contained anger--whether it was from his lingering desires or his frustration with me, I couldn't tell.

Without saying a word, he pulled me to my feet, his gaze narrowing. "We're going to the hospital. You're not getting rid of this baby without me knowing."

I stumbled, collapsing onto the couch. In a fit of rage, I flung my medical report at him, and a drop of blood appeared on his cheek.

I crouched down, tears of frustration spilling from my eyes. "I'm sick, William."

He knocked the painkillers out of my hands and, almost frenzied, lifted me off the couch, carrying me outside. Feeling his uncontrollable shaking, I numbly leaned against his chest.

In a daze, I heard him muttering to himself, "You can't take those abortion pills."

I noticed the scattered pills underfoot, crushed into bits by his heavy steps. Despair washed over me as I shut my eyes, tears soaking my collar.

What he didn't know was that I was already infertile. The vomiting was just a symptom of my brain tumor.

At the hospital, a determined William dragged me out of the car. My legs felt weak, and everything around me blurred, the sounds fading into a distant hum.

After a few shaky steps, William stopped to ask a nurse where the OB/GYN was located. My head throbbed painfully, and I instinctively leaned against the wall.

As I hung my head, blood began to stream from my nose.

The gleaming white tiles quickly turned red, blooming like flowers.

The nurse was quick to catch me, shouting to her colleague, "We need to take her to the emergency room!"

William, unused to being dismissed, frowned. "We need to go to OB/GYN."

The nurse, incredulous, shot back, "Can't you see how bad she looks? This isn't the time!"

I was hoisted onto a stretcher, the bile I had vomited trailing behind me.

William silently followed the medical staff, and only when I lay unconscious on the hospital bed did he realize I had been telling the truth.

Advanced-stage malignant brain tumor. Surgery and chemotherapy wouldn't save me.

After settling the bills, he wandered into the hospital stairwell and, for the first time in ages, smoked several cigarettes.

Behind the smoke, his eyes were hollow, and his expression was distant.

He hated me, yet he wanted to be tied to me for life. Maybe, one day, when we were old and gray, we could bury the hatchet and rest in the same grave.

He knew I hated him deeply. But where there was love, there was also hate. I loved him, which is why I hated him.