But that night there was no tenderness in the car.
There was only fear, anger, and a coldness that froze her already weak blood even more.
“Garrett,” she said, gripping the doorknob as another cramp shot through her lower abdomen. “I can’t even stand up anymore.”
He grabbed her shoulder.
The tires squealed on the flooded gravel.
Outside, the storm seemed to be intensifying.
A sharp pain pierced Eleanor with such violence that a flash of white light appeared in the periphery of her field of vision.
She grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt.
He recoiled abruptly, as if he were disgusted by her touch.
“Please,” he said. “Call 911.”
Garrett opened the door for him.
He went out in the rain, took a walk around the neighborhood, and suddenly opened the door.
The cold water hit his face hard.
“No,” she sobbed, clutching her seatbelt. “Garrett, don’t do this.”
His hands were trembling as he performed the loop.
For a split second, he thought that meant he was going to stop.
Then he grabbed her by the arms and dragged her outside.
Her bare feet touched the water and the stone.
