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I Never Thought He Was Feeding off My Pain Novel Cover

I Never Thought He Was Feeding off My Pain

Watching her husband Damon sleep peacefully, a heartbroken wife makes a silent pact with herself. She resolves to give their fading marriage one final chance, setting a strict three-day deadline to see if they can reclaim the love they once shared. For a brief moment, reconciliation feels possible. However, as the third day draws to a close, Damon’s actions destroy her final, lingering hopes, shattering any illusion of a happy ending and leaving their future in ruins.
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Chapter 3

I got up and rifled through the first aid kit, but everything inside seemed to be expired. I figured if it was unopened, it might still be okay. I twisted the cap off a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, walked to the bathroom and poured it over my wound. Then, I grabbed some gauze and wrapped it around the injury haphazardly.

I glanced over at the white dress I’d changed out of. It almost looked better stained with blood, that deep red against the fabric.

The thought caught me off guard, I shook the thought off and I dunked the dress into the water. But when I saw the black stains spreading on the white fabric, I felt a wave of frustration. I watched as the blood slowly soaked away and suddenly, I couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore. The dress ended up in the trash a few moments later.

I stood there for a while, staring at the ingredients scattered across the counter. I was too tired to bother cleaning up.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I heard the door open. Damon walked in with a sigh that made me realize how much I hadn’t done right.

“Can’t you at least turn on the lights?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” I mumbled.

He didn’t look at me, just turned on the light by the door. Then, he went about tidying up, not bothering to say much. “I’m so tired. I’m just going to bed.”

He walked into the bedroom, then popped his head back out. “Remember to wash my shirt. I need it for the day after tomorrow.”

I lazily acknowledged him. He didn’t say anything else, just tossed his clothes on the bed and walked off.

I picked up the shirt, squinting at the dim light from the doorway. That’s when I saw a red mark on the collar. It wasn’t blood. It reminded me of how often he used to talk about a new addition to the company—his new secretary, Candace Stokes, six months ago.

“Candace is so clueless. She can’t do anything right. Just like you were back then.”

“Candace couldn’t figure how the printer work. She makes a long line behind her. When I left, I caught her jumping around from panic. So funny!”

Damon said all of this with a smile—a genuine, adoring smile. I knew, because I’d seen it before.

While I was lost in thought, Damon suddenly scolded me. “What with the face? Did my story bored you? I just want to tell you my day and this is your reaction? You’re so petty!”

After yelling, Damon went into the room and I flinched, startled. I quickly followed him in, trying to steer the conversation back to his cute secretary. As we talked, Damon suddenly looked at me intensely and things got out of hands.

I woke up to find Damon staring at me. I obediently took the pills he gave me. Only then did Damon nod, satisfied.

“That’s my girl. Remember what my mom said? With your condition, it’s better if you don’t get pregnant.” 

I forced a smile, nodding in agreement. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“The color choice is terrible. She should have gone with blood red. Now that's a good shade of red,” I muttered to myself, looking at the stain on Damon’s shirt’s collar. As I was about to head to the laundry room, I saw Damon standing in the doorway, his expression full of shock.

He walked toward me, stammering, "T-that must be from the party earlier. Someone must have been messing with me by drawing it there."

I shrugged casually. “I just think the color choice is awful.”

Damon's panicked expression shifted into a smile, his demeanor relaxing. “Right,” he said, studying me for a long moment, as if trying to gauge something.

“Are you okay?” he asked eventually.

“I'm good. Why do you ask?”

Damon stepped closer, gently taking hold of my arm and stroking it softly. “Just checking,” he replied.

Then, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I've missed you so much,” he murmured. He always acted this way when he thought I had caught on to something. He would be playing nice-doting husband. 

“I’ll wash this. You should go to bed,” I said, holding up the shirt.

I was feeling a little worn out from not having eaten all day and I just didn’t have the energy to deal with him.

Damon, however, had other plans. He scooped me up effortlessly and as he did, my injured leg bumped against the trash can. I cried out in pain. I yelped in pain and Damon’s face darkened.

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