Life in the Cellar

My husband's childhood sweetheart kills my parents in an accident due to drunk driving. I want to call the police, but my husband blindfolds me and takes me to the cellar.

I'm tormented and subjected to inhumane treatment for the next three years. After each torture session, an icy male voice will ring out in my ear. "Do you still hate her, Sabrina?"

One day, I finally cave and submit to the icy voice. "No, I don't. I don't hate her anymore!"

I hear my husband's joyous laughter on the other end of the line.

On the day he welcomes me out of the cellar, I avoid his embrace. Yet he loses his mind when I ask him for a divorce.

I was in a damp, pitch-black cellar, hunched in a corner with my injured leg behind me. The walls were slimy and wet, and the moisture soaked through my blouse.

The door swung open, and a burst of light stung my eyes. I lifted my hand to block it. I heard footsteps and quickly shrank back, hiding deeper in the shadows.

"Mr. Carver sent me to get you, Mrs. Carver."

I looked up to see who it was. It was the bodyguard Henry had hired years ago.

I dropped my gaze and said, "Okay."

I struggled to get to my feet and stumbled a few shaky steps, limping badly.

The bodyguard looked shocked. "What happened to your leg, Mrs. Carver?"

I clutched the seam of my pants and looked down. "A cabinet fell on it earlier. It might be broken."

He stared at me, eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell Mr. Carver?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I let out a dry laugh.

What was I supposed to tell Henry Carver? Would he have let me go for treatment if I asked? Or would he have called a doctor for me?

"I'll help you," the bodyguard said, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward and took my arm.

We had just left the cellar when I saw Henry get out of a car with Joanna Liddell beside him.

"Henry, didn't I tell you she'd play the helpless victim to get you to feel sorry for her? Look at her—she can't even make it this short distance without someone holding her up," Joanna taunted.

Henry turned to look at me. He didn't say a word, but there was a smug gleam in his eyes. He walked over quickly and suddenly spread his arms wide in front of me.

I flinched and quickly dodged his hug. I hunched over like I couldn't even feel the sharp pain in my leg. "Don't hit me! Please, don't! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Henry froze, his arms hanging in the air. Slowly, he let them drop to his sides and stood before me.

"What's going on with her?" he questioned his bodyguard.

The bodyguard seemed taken aback by my reaction. He only snapped back to reality after hearing Henry's question.

"Mrs. Carver—"

"Henry!" Joanna shouted, interrupting the bodyguard.

Henry instinctively glanced back at her.

The bodyguard swallowed whatever he was about to say.

"Sabrina, don't tell me you're still upset that Henry locked you down there to reflect on your behavior. Is this whole dramatic act just to make him feel bad?

"That's enough. Cut the act. Since you've admitted you were wrong, Henry and I won't bring up that whole thing about you falsely accusing me again," Joanna said.

She put extra emphasis on the words "that whole thing".

My body suddenly stopped trembling.

Joanna chuckled. "See, Henry? Just like I told you."

I stayed crouched in the same spot.

Henry stood over me, his voice suddenly cold. "It's been three years, Sabrina! How much longer will it take for you to learn your lesson?"