He Was Still Waiting for His Dead Wife to Apologize

My husband locked me in a suitcase to punish me for frightening his childhood sweetheart. He said I could come out when I apologized. By the time his assistant warned him about the smell, our baby and I were already dead. But Adrian still expected me to crawl out and beg for forgiveness—and I was trapped beside him, watching.

——

"That jealous woman hasn't come to make a scene. Has she finally learned to behave?"

My husband, Adrian Mercer, leaned back in his chair. His assistant, Owen, stood across the desk in his office.

"I knew it," Adrian said. "She just needed to be taught her place."

Owen went rigid. "Mr. Mercer, I don't think anyone's let your wife out yet."

For a moment, Adrian's expression changed. Then he shrugged.

"Fine. Give her a few more days to think about what she did."

Owen opened his mouth, hesitated, and tried again. "There's a bad smell coming from the storage room. Where Mrs. Mercer is locked up. Shouldn't you take a look?"

"A bad smell?" Adrian scowled. "Evelyn would do anything to stay alive. Eat her own shit. Drink her own piss. Of course it stinks in there."

"Sir—"

"Enough." Adrian cut him off. "I'll let her out tomorrow. She's had days to learn her lesson. If she apologizes to Chloe, I'll let this go."

Chloe came into the office barefoot. She was the childhood friend he'd always loved, the woman he'd chosen to comfort while his wife stayed locked away upstairs.

His face softened as soon as he saw her.

"Another nightmare?" He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. "Don't be scared. I've punished Evelyn. I'll make her pay ten times over for what she put you through."

"You're too good to me." Chloe pressed her face against his chest. "But she must have learned her lesson by now. All I wanted was an apology. I never wanted you to punish her."

She tipped her head back to look at him.

"She won't blame me, will she?"

I laughed.

Neither of them heard me. I was standing right beside them, and neither even turned.

I was dead.

When I finally stopped struggling for air, I'd found myself outside the suitcase, looking down at it. Blood had soaked through the fabric. The suitcase was shut inside a heavy wardrobe, its doors secured shut with a padlock.

I couldn't bear to look at that lock for long. Even without a body, I remembered what it felt like to be trapped behind those doors.

Now Adrian cupped Chloe's face.

"I'll always be here for you. I'm sorry you had to go through that." His thumb moved over her cheek. "Evelyn is so desperate to survive, but she didn't care what happened to you. Let her drink her own piss and eat her own shit until she understands."

He spoke as if he'd actually watched me wallow in waste just to stay alive. As if wanting to survive were a sin.

I couldn't even cry.

He was right about one thing. I had wanted to live.

The suitcase was too small for me. To force me inside, Adrian broke my hands.

At first, I fought through the pain. I pushed against the sides and tried to straighten my legs, but there was nowhere for them to go. When fighting only made the pain worse, I lay still and tried to save my strength.

I had begged him, told him I was pregnant. It hadn't stopped him from folding me over my belly.

The pressure wouldn't let up. I couldn't shift far enough to ease it. I screamed until my throat hoarse, then listened for his footsteps, hoping he'd grown tired of teaching me a lesson.

When I heard him nearby, I struggled again. My hands were useless, so I scraped at the zipper with my toenails. If I could catch it, move it even a little, perhaps I could get enough room to breathe.

"Scared now?" Adrian asked. "Chloe suffered more than this. Stay in there and learn to behave."

I stopped trying to explain that I hadn't hurt her.

"All right. I'm sorry. I'll apologize. Please, Adrian. Please let me out."

I would have admitted to anything if he would just open the bag.

Then I felt blood running between my legs. I tried to move, to take the weight off my belly, but I no longer had the strength.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard his voice.

"She's still making noise, so she hasn't learned a thing. Lock her in the closet to reflect."

I begged as the suitcase was moved. My voice was barely a rasp by then.

The closet doors closed. A lock clicked into place.

After that, no one answered me.