Mafia's Desire

21

Ansley's POV

I lifted myself up onto my shaky hands and knees. My vision was slightly blurred so I stayed still and blinked, attempting to get my eyes to focus on something. Once my vision was mostly clear, I crawled to the couch and placed my hands on the cushions. With much effort, I managed to pull myself into a sitting position on the couch.

I held my head in my hands for it felt far too heavy to hold up with just my neck. A small trickle of blood pooled from my nose and dripped into the crease of my busted lip. I brushed my shaking hand across my lip to wipe it away but winced when I made contact with the torn skin.

I was so tired as I sat there. Blackness was licking at the corners of my eyes, pulling me into a deep slumber. I couldn't go to sleep though. I needed to pick myself up and straighten out the living room. I needed to clean up the broken glass bottle that shattered above my head before Michael came back down.

But I was so tired. Just a minute, I told myself, before closing my eyes.

When I woke up again, a blinding light made me wince and shut my eyes. There was a weird chemical smell, like the smell of a hospital.

"Ansley?" Someone was calling my name. It was a woman's voice.

I just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Ansley?" I heard again.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, just squinting my eyes.

"Could you turn the light off for me, sir?" The woman asked. Then I heard some shuffling and the room was dark, except for the light trickling in from the windows and hallway.

"I'm Rose, Ansley. Do you know where you are?"

Based on my surroundings I guessed I was at a hospital. "Yea," I whispered.

"How?" I asked, hoping she knew what I meant. My own voice was giving me a headache.

"Your husband brought you in," she said. 

My husband? That didn't sound like Michael. He would never take me to the hospital to treat an injury that he deemed my fault. All of my injuries inflicted by him were my fault. 

"Sir, if you wouldn't mind stepping out of the room, I need to ask Mrs. Cooper a few questions."

I heard some more shuffling and then the door shut.

Opening my eyes fully, I looked at the nurse standing in front of me. She was younger and she looked friendly. I knew what she was going to ask me if I was being abused.

"Do you remember how you got here, Ansley?"

I shook my head, knowing Micahel had already told them a lie I wasn't privy to.

"Your husband said you fell down the stairs. Do you remember that happening?"

I took a second to respond before nodding my head. "I must've tripped somehow."

"Yeah, but you're a little bit too bruised up for just falling down the stairs."

I offered her a small smile, holding back the wince when the torn skin of my lips was stretched. "I have an affinity for hurting myself."

She wasn't believing me, I could tell by the sympathetic expression on her face.

"Are you being abused at home, Ansley? By someone who lives with you maybe? Your husband?"

"No," I said, feeling acidity build in my stomach with my lie. Yes, I was being abused, manhandled, misused, taken advantage of, all of the things. But it didn't matter. I belonged to Michael.