The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 79

Latisha clenched her jaw, the pain making her face even paler. Staring into his deep eyes, she slowly gave up the fight.

Clifford didn’t move further. He just watched her until she went completely still, then he released her.

She slid off the desk and crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach, afraid to move. Any motion sent waves of searing pain through her.

“Think about what I said,” Clifford’s voice came from above her.

He turned to leave, but his pant leg was suddenly caught. He looked down to see Latisha gripping the fabric.

She slowly lifted her head, her face white with pain. Anyone could see she was in agony. She took a few shuddering breaths, trying to suppress the pain.

She let go of his pants and raised a trembling hand. *If you hate me and everyone around me so much, why don’t you just divorce me?*

His eyes darkened. He suddenly crouched down in front of her. He tilted her chin up. “Your memory is getting worse. Have you already forgotten what I told you?”

She looked at him weakly. She hadn't forgotten. He had told her not to see Nikita, and he had told her never to mention the word ‘divorce.’

Latisha felt like a dog in a cage, able to do nothing but wag its tail for its master, with no freedom to speak of.

*Is this what you meant by taking care of me for a lifetime?* she signed. *Locking me in a cage forever?*

Clifford stared at the tears glinting in her eyes. Something flickered in his own, too fast to catch.

After a long moment, he said, “If that’s how you want to see it, then yes.”

Those last words hit her like a bolt of lightning, leaving her dizzy and numb. She closed her eyes, tears escaping from the corners, her face a mask of resigned defeat.

A moment later, she opened them and signed, *If I never see Nikita again, can you get her out of this mess?*

Mrs. Dashiell stood stunned for a long moment. Long after Clifford had left, his meaning finally sank in. A bittersweet smile appeared on her wrinkled face.

She dropped her bundle of rags and hurried upstairs to find Latisha. She found her on the floor of the study, her clothes in disarray.

Mrs. Dashiell stopped short, then rushed in to help her up.

“Latisha, what’s wrong?”

Latisha slowly opened her eyes. Her forehead and neck were drenched in cold sweat, as if she’d been pulled from water. She weakly raised a hand to her stomach.

That’s when Mrs. Dashiell saw the dark stains of blood on her pants.

“You…” Mrs. Dashiell’s face paled. With no time to think, she pulled out her phone to call for an ambulance.