Jeremy heard the doctor’s question. Shifting in his chair, he stared outside. Water trickled and dripped from the icicles clinging to the eaves. Drip, drip, drip. Each drop marking time with his heartbeat, frozen and somehow still alive.
“Jeremy?” her soft voice prodded.
He looked into her doe brown eyes and remembered Meghan’s eyes. His heart constricted, he felt panic and gasped.
“Easy. Breathe slowly,” she instructed.
He closed his eyes, steadied his breath.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to feel. I mean, how would you feel?” Jeremy glared at her.
She said nothing, waiting.
“You come home early and find rose petals leading to the bedroom. You open the door, thinking she will be there in a sexy negligee. She’s there all right. But she’s not alone.”
Jeremy paused, covering his face with his bandaged hand.
“Go on,” she coaxed.
“I never suspected. They weren’t supposed to know.” Jeremy scrubbed away his tears, “I was so careful. I had a system, a good system. They shouldn’t have found out. I don’t know how they did.”
“But they did?” the doctor pushed.
“They said they loved me. How could they hurt me like this?”
“We found Margot,” she said. Jeremy’s shoulders slumped.
“And Martha, and Madeline,” she said as she walked to the door.
“We also know about Mariah and Makenzie,” the doctor paused, letting the names sink in.
“Perhaps, you got off easy,” she finished.
Jeremey listened as she shut and locked the door.
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer
Jo Hawk 