Chapter 2 - The Line in the DirtAllison knelt beside me in the dirt, completely ignoring Mark’s furious glare. Her hands were shaking as she reached down to untie the knots around my ankles.
“Don’t touch those,” Mark warned, his voice dropping into a register that was low and venomous. “Allison, I swear to God, walk away from her.”
“Get away from her, Mark,” Scott suddenly spoke up from near the fence. He set his aluminum can down on the wooden post and took two long strides forward. “You’ve gone way too far. Untie her.”
“She’s my wife!” Mark shouted, spinning around to face Scott. “You don’t tell me what to do in my own damn yard!”
“She’s a human being, you psycho!” Kevin barked, pulling out his smartphone. “I’m calling an ambulance. Look at her arms!”
The moment Kevin mentioned his phone, Mark snapped. He lunged across the grass, grabbing Kevin by the collar of his shirt and shoving him back against the wooden fence. “You’re not calling anyone from my house! Give me that phone!”
While Mark was distracted by the scuffle, Allison managed to loosen the nylon cord. The pressure released from my ankles, and cold relief flooded through my limbs—or at least the parts I could still feel.
“Can you crawl?” Allison whispered, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Maya, I’m so sorry. I thought... I thought he was just joking around when he started rolling the car slowly. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s okay,” I rasped, pulling myself forward using her shoulders for leverage. “Just get me to the porch stairs. Get my phone out of my bag.”
Across the yard, Scott threw his body between Mark and Kevin, shoving Mark back with both hands. “Touch him again, Mark, and I’ll put you on the ground! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Mark stumbled backward, his hair disheveled, his breathing heavy. He looked around his yard and realized the illusion had completely shattered. The men he considered his 'buddies' were looking at him not with respect or amusement, but with absolute disgust and horror.
“She drove me to it!” Mark screamed, his eyes wild as he pointed a trembling hand at me. “She sits in that house all day, condescending to me! Acting like she’s better than me just because her father left her that trust fund! I pay the mortgage! I take care of her!”
“You don’t pay the mortgage, Mark,” I said clearly from the base of the porch steps, my voice carrying across the quiet neighborhood. “My father’s estate pays the mortgage. You haven’t held a job in eight months.”
The onlookers gasped softly. Mark had spent months telling everyone in town that he was taking a 'sabbatical' to care for his disabled wife. The truth was that he had been fired for gross negligence and had been living off my disability settlements ever since.
“Shut up!” Mark shrieked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key fob, slamming the lock button. “All of you, get off my property right now! Get out!”
“We’re taking Maya with us,” Scott said firmly, stepping toward me.
“She stays here!” Mark yelled, stepping in front of the porch stairs to block them. “She’s my wife! You step on these stairs, Scott, and I’ll call the cops on you for trespassing!”
“Go ahead and call them, Mark,” I said, looking up at him from the ground with an icy, calm expression. “Because when they get here, they won’t be looking at Scott. They’ll be looking at the tire tracks across the dirt, the cord in Allison’s hands, and the skin left on your bumper.”
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Mark’s face drained of color. He looked down at the rear of his sedan. A distinct drag trail stretched forty feet across the dry dirt of our yard, ending right where I was sitting.
He was finally realizing that he hadn't just humiliated me. He had handed the authorities a roadmap to his own destruction.
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