The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 160

Icy water flooded her nose and throat, and the sensation of drowning enveloped her. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst.

Latisha thrashed instinctively, her arms and legs flailing, splashing water from the tub all over the floor.

After a few frantic struggles, Clifford grabbed her by the collar and hauled her out. She gasped desperately for air, spitting and coughing up water.

“Tell me,” Clifford said, his voice as cold as the water, “did you do it willingly?”

Latisha opened her eyes, but the water streaming down her face blurred her vision. She tried to focus on his face, but he was just a dark shape against the glare of the bathroom light.

“Was it your choice?” he demanded again.

She could only nod.

As she expected, Clifford plunged her back into the water.

This time, Latisha didn't fight. She went limp, letting the cold water close over her, her hands drifting lifelessly. She’d never had the courage to end her own life, but if Clifford wanted to help her, so be it.

Death would be a relief. An escape.

If she were dead, she couldn't hurt anyone else. If she were dead, the pain would finally stop.

Someone like her deserved to die. She should have been dead a long time ago.

Latisha closed her eyes, and flashes of her life flickered through her mind. The suffocating pressure built in her head, and her consciousness began to fade.

Just as she was about to slip away, he yanked her out again. He pressed on her chest, and she coughed up a great gush of water.

Latisha collapsed over the side of the tub, racked with violent coughs. She was soaked from head to toe, water dripping from her sleeves onto the floor in a steady rhythm.

Clifford was hardly better off; her earlier struggles had drenched his clothes in dark, spreading patches. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

He knelt in front of her and tilted her chin up. “Now, tell me. Was it willing?”

Latisha tried to smile, a bitter twist of her lips, but the muscles in her face wouldn't cooperate. Why did he care so much? What difference did it make if it was willing or not?

She kept her eyes shut, letting the water fill her nose and throat, feeling the explosive, suffocating pressure build in her lungs. She tried to ignore the physical agony, forcing her mind to drift back to happier times.

She pictured Clifford holding her hand on the way to school, his fond smile as he ruffled her hair. “Eat more,” he’d said once. “I don’t like my wives too skinny.”

It was just a line to coax her into eating, but she, like a fool, had believed it every time.

*You really are an idiot.*

A bitter smile touched her lips.

This was it, then. The end of everything.

She sank slowly, all the way to the bottom.

Outside, Clifford stood for a few minutes. Hearing no sound from within, he frowned, and then kicked the bathroom door open with a resounding crash.