Haunting The Husband Who Ignored My Pleas

Michelle POV

I was trapped in the passenger seat of Kevin's Audi.

He drove fast, weaving through traffic with an aggression that matched his dark mood. The radio was off. The silence was deafening.

His phone started ringing again. *Joyce.*

He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "God dammit!"

He snatched the phone up and swiped to answer.

"What, Joyce?" he barked. "I am driving."

"Kevin!" My mother’s voice was broken, a jagged sound of pure terror crackling through the speakers. "Kevin, have you seen the news? The explosion? They found a body. They said... they said she was wearing a silver bracelet."

I looked down at my wrist. The silver charm bracelet he gave me for our first anniversary was still there. It was melted into my skin now, fused by the heat, but my mother knew. A mother always knows.

"Joyce, stop," Kevin said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Michelle has a silver bracelet. So do half the women in this city. It's a Pandora bracelet. It's not unique."

"But she's not answering! She never turns her phone off!"

"She sent me a text two hours ago," Kevin lied. Or rather, he twisted the truth to fit his narrative. "She said she's leaving me. She's doing this to punish me, and you're helping her."

"She wouldn't," my mom sobbed. "Kevin, please. You're a coroner. You can check. Please just check."

"I did the autopsy, Joyce!" he shouted. The car swerved slightly into the next lane before he jerked it back. "I just left the morgue. The body is a Jane Doe. It's not Michelle. Michelle is probably at your house right now, hiding in the closet, waiting for me to come beg for forgiveness. Well, it’s not happening."

"Kevin, if you're wrong..." my father's voice came on the line now, deep and trembling. "If you're wrong, God help you."

"I'm not wrong. Tell your daughter to grow up and come home. I'm done with this conversation."

He hung up and threw the phone onto the passenger seat. It passed right through my leg as if I were made of smoke.

"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. "The whole family is crazy."

I stared at his profile. The strong jawline I used to kiss. The furrowed brow I used to smooth with my thumbs.

He wasn't evil. He was just... convinced.

He had built a fortress of resentment around himself, brick by brick, over the last three years. Every time I asked for affection, he added a brick. Every time I complained about Violet, he added a brick.

Now, that fortress was so high he couldn't see the truth even when he had literally dissected it.

He pulled up to a red light and slammed on the brakes. He rubbed his temples.

"She's fine," he whispered. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself now. "She's just acting. She's always acting."

He looked at the empty seat next to him. He looked right at me.

"Stop hiding, Michelle," he said to the empty air. "It's not funny anymore."

I reached out and placed my hand on his cheek. My fingers were nothing but mist. He didn't feel a thing.

"I'm not hiding, Kevin," I whispered. "I'm dead."

The light turned green. He floored the gas.