Saved Me, Crippled Me, Bled Me Dry

Nora

Three years ago, I was in a car crash that killed both my parents and shattered my legs beyond repair. The doctors said I'd never walk again.

When I had nothing left, he appeared like some kind of savior. He paid for everything, brought me to his private research facility, took care of me.

He told me he loved me, broken body and all. We got married. He was perfect to me.

There was just one catch. His sister. Not even blood related, just some girl he grew up with. She had some rare blood disease, and turns out I had the exact blood type she needed. So I gave blood. Bone marrow too. Over and over.

I thought I owed him my life. For three years, I let them stick needles in me, drain whatever they needed. I thought that was love.

Until today, when I found a video on his phone from three years ago.

In the footage, one of his men reports back: "The crash was clean. Her parents are dead. Her legs are destroyed, just like you wanted."

His voice, cold as ice: "Good. As long as her blood keeps Cora alive, that's all that matters. She's got no one and nowhere to go. She'll have to stay."

The accident that killed my parents and destroyed my legs wasn't an accident at all. He planned it.

So I planned my own death. And when he saw my body, the man who dragged me into hell finally lost his mind.

Cold spreads through me like ice water in my veins. I'm lying in the recovery room on the top floor of the research facility, and I know I look like death.

Half an hour ago, they finished my third bone marrow extraction this month. A needle drilling into bone hurts exactly as much as you'd imagine. I'm still shaking.

But that pain is nothing compared to what the video just did to me.

Betrayal doesn't just hurt. It tears you open from the inside out, like someone's using a dull knife on your chest.

Tears stream down my face. The truth hits so hard I almost black out.

Why? He already got what he wanted from me. So why the act? Why marry me, make me think he saved me, when he's the one who destroyed everything?

I hear voices outside. Silas, talking to someone.

I set his phone back on the nightstand and close my eyes, listening.

"You've done three extractions this month already. That's way past the safety limit! This is going to kill her!" That's his colleague from the facility, and he sounds furious.

"She lost her parents and her legs in that crash, and now you're bleeding her dry every single month. You're going to kill her!"

"I don't get it. You said you married her to take care of her, to make up for what happened. So why are you doing this?"

Silas sounds calm. Too calm. "I married her so I'd have a reliable supply on hand. Easier to keep Cora stable that way."

"Cora's numbers dropped again. She needs more blood. I'll draw a few bags from her tomorrow."

"Are you insane? It hasn't even been two days! You really don't care if your wife dies, do you?"

The other voice keeps pushing back, but Silas doesn't answer. Footsteps head toward my room.

I'm all out of tears. So that's why he married me.

He didn't just take my parents and my legs. He's been draining me dry for three years, all for Cora.

God, he really does love his precious little sister.

The door opens. I force my eyes open, make sure they look soft and trusting.

"Baby, have you been crying?" Silas crosses the room fast. When he sees the tears, concern floods his face.

"Nothing. Just some pain from the incision."

He sits on the bed, brushes the damp hair off my forehead. The way he looks at me, you'd think I was something precious. Something fragile he needs to protect.

He picks up the bowl of broth from the nightstand, stirs it, blows on it, then brings the spoon to my lips. "Here, drink a little. You're too weak. Cora's levels are stable now. You won't have to do this again for a few months."

I look at his face, all soft concern and gentle care, and force the broth down even though it makes me want to throw up.

"As long as it helps Cora, as long as I can be with you, I'm okay."

Something flickers in his eyes. He leans down and kisses my forehead. "Good girl."

His phone buzzes. He checks it, frowns, sets the bowl back down. "They need me to check something at the lab. I'll be right outside. Just rest, okay?"

"Okay."

The door closes behind him.

I watch him leave. The tears come back.

Three years.

Three whole years of being grateful to him. Three years of letting them stick needles in my bones, drain my blood, all to save the woman he actually cares about.

And what did I get? A husband who calls it love while he bleeds me dry. A husband who keeps me like livestock.

I close my eyes. The pain, the shock, the despair, all of it hardens into something cold and sharp.

I can't fall apart. Not where he can see.

If he wants to play pretend, fine. I'll play along.

Until I find a way out of this hell.

I don't know how much time passes before I hear footsteps again. A sweet, syrupy voice drifts through the door.

"Silas, is Nora feeling better?"