Book TRK
God of War: Chapter 39
NIGHT OF THE ACCIDENT
When I forcibly discharged Ava from the mental institute, everyone was against it.
Every. Single. One.
My father included.
However, I wasn’t ready to watch her try to commit suicide again. Or, worse, tighten security further or place her in a straitjacket. That will not be happening under my watch, no matter how much her parents argue that discharging her is not the right solution.
Or how much Dr. Blaine says that my wife is prone to exhibit harmful behavior to both herself and those around her. Namely me.
She’s wrong.
Sam, Henderson, and I have it under control. If she gets antsy due to my presence, which admittedly happens a lot lately, I simply stay out of sight and let Sam take care of her. She’s a trained medical professional and therapist, which is part of the reason my parents hired her as my nanny. She knew how to deal with my destructive behavior and handles Ava professionally well when she’s having her episodes.
She’s also the one who first noticed that my wife’s state worsens whenever I’m present and relayed that to Dr. Blaine.
Due to Ava’s frequent episodes, I’ve had to stay away more than I prefer. Even tonight, I buried myself in paperwork at the office and only had Alan drive me back home when Sam texted that my wife had fallen asleep.
Here’s to another night of watching her through monitors.
Although I hate to admit it, Henderson was right when he said this isn’t a marriage but torture for both of us.
Ava doesn’t want to be with me, and even though she’s been scared of me since the wedding, she often suggests that we split up while swearing that she’ll never tell anyone about the murder.
I turn crueler whenever she mentions that, but that’s because it’s the only method I can think of to keep her beside me. If she’s scared of me, she’ll never leave me.
If she’s scared of me, she’ll realize her survival depends only on me.
Yes, I recognize that if I trust Dr. Blaine and have her admitted to the hospital for five to six months and give her time to try out her therapy method, I might get a more present wife. I’ll have the girl whose life became so intertwined with mine, I can’t imagine myself without her.
But the images of her strangling herself with the sheets in that goddamn dark hospital room haunt me.
I’d never put her in that place again.
Never.
I run a hand down my face and release a long sigh, then smile bitterly.
There was a day when I thought I’d get this obsession out of my system and move on with my life, but I only managed to get so attached to my wife that nausea fills my throat at the thought of losing her.
My feet come to a halt when I find Ava at the top of the stairs. She’s wearing a soft off-white silk gown and her long blonde hair frames her face like a halo.
She looks like my own fucking angel.
Broken wings and all.
Her face is passive, no emotion showing through as she stares at me, both hands behind her back.
Usually, I’d touch her throat to feel her pulse—it’s the surest way to know whether or not she’s in a fugue state. If it’s low, she’s out of it. If it’s pumping hard and strong, she’s all right.
For a while, at least.
But since I shouldn’t be coming in contact with her, I turn to leave as I reach for my phone to text Sam.
“Why can’t you look at me?” she asks in a brittle voice, her words haunting in the silence.
“It’s not that.” I stop but don’t face her. No matter how precious it is to hear her voice lately. She’s barely talked if at all in the past several weeks.
“What is it, then? Why is it that even now, you don’t look at me? Do you find me unsightly?”
I whirl around and curse under my breath as a tear clings to her lashes and spills down her cheek. “Never.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?” She sniffles. “I haven’t seen you in a month! And before that, I didn’t see you for weeks on end. This has been happening since you discharged me from the hospital. If you’re repulsed by my episodes and suicide attempt, tell me so to my face. Don’t just disappear and leave me anxious and paranoid.”
“I am not repulsed. I’d never be repulsed by you.”
“You never consummated our marriage.” Her words end in a sniffle before she whispers, “You…never treated me like your wife.”
“You told me not to touch you.”
“On our wedding night! Because I was scared and confused. I didn’t mean the entirety of our marriage.” She steps closer.
I step back.
I can’t touch her.
If I do, I won’t stop. I’ll fuck her so hard and rough, she won’t be able to walk for days.
No one can accuse me of being a saint, but I think I should be rewarded the position for abstaining since the night I murdered Oliver.
But I have my reasons. One, my face triggers her.
Two. The idea of taking advantage of her lethargic mental state where she’s not lucid enough to consent or feel every inch of me leaves a rancid taste at the back of my throat.
So I’ll remain a fucking monk until she gets better.
“You don’t even want to touch me.” Tears cascade down her cheeks. “Why? Why can’t you see me, Eli?”
I stare at her glittering eyes that resemble a whirling storm. “I do see you. More than anything or anyone.”
“Liar!” she yells. “Lies! Tell me the truth! Say you don’t want to touch me because you think about replacing me with a normal woman.”
“Never.”
“Stop lying to me!” She lets her hands fall to either side of her and that’s when I see the huge kitchen knife she’s holding.
Fucking hell!
“What do you plan to do with that, Ava?” I ask with a calm I don’t feel.
She points the knife in my direction. “Let me go or I’ll stab you.”
“I told you. The day where you’re not my wife does not exist.”
Her lips tremble. “You think I can’t hurt you because I had a crush on you?”
“On the contrary, I think you would exactly because of that.”
“Give me my freedom back and you can do whatever you want with the women lining up to be with you.”
“No.”
“I will kill you.”
“Do it.” I take a step toward her. “That’s the only way you’ll be free of me.”
“Don’t come any closer!”
I reach for the knife, but she wields it sporadically, her eyes half-closed. A sickening stabbing sound fills my ears as pain explodes in my lower abdomen.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.
A soft gasp echoes in the air and Ava releases the knife, leaving it wedged in my abdomen. Her wide eyes follow the stream of blood as it soaks my white shirt and drips onto the wooden floor.
“Oh my God…” She comes closer, her hand reached out for me, then steps back again. Fresh tears fall harder as she shakes her head. “I d-didn’t mean to… I o-only wanted to threaten y-you… Oh God….”
“I’m f-fine…” I strain, touching the wound.
“Oh no…what have I done…?” She stares at the blood pooling on the floor as she backs away with trembling legs.
Toward the stairs.
“Ava!” I shout as she falls backward and a haunting thud fills my ears.
For a moment, my whole world goes black.
And I know, I just know, that if she’s gone, I’ll make sure it’s the end for me as well.