Page 98 of Brain Damage

“Now?” I squeak. “But it’s the middle of the night…”

“Always with the excuses,” Clark mutters. “Charlotte, without these forms, I can’t even pay your mortgage and you’ll lose your precious apartment.”

“My mother has been paying the mortgage,” I point out.

Clark doesn’t seem to appreciate that answer. “Do you recognize the sacrifice I’m making for you?” he practically spits in my face. “I’m going to be dressing you, bathing you, wiping your ass. I’m the one keeping you out of a nursing home. You can’t even sign a paper for me, you ungrateful bitch?”

Where is that nurse call button?

“I thought it had to be notarized,” I say in a small voice.

“I’ve got a friend who can do it,” Clark mutters.

“Oh.”

Clark places the paper on my lap then roughly shoves a pen into my right hand. I don’t want to sign these papers. I really don’t. But what else can I do? In a way, he’s right. He’s going to be doing everything for me. I need him.

The pain in my temple is almost blinding. My hand holding the pen starts to shake. I don’t know if I could sign even if I wanted to.

“Sign the paper,” Clark says through his teeth. “Sign it or I swear to God, I’ll walk away right now. I’ll leave you to figure out this mess all on your own.”

I have to sign. I don’t have a choice. I try to steady my hand enough to sign, but it’s hard. I can’t stop shaking.

“I’m doing you a favor, Charlotte,” he goes on. “You realize that, right? Just like I did you a favor when I married you.”

I stare up at him. “What?”

“Come on, Charlotte,” he snorts. “You didn’t really think that somebody like me would really be attracted to a fat, bitchy, ugly doctor? I did you a favor by marrying you. I took pity on you. But you were never grateful to me. You always just wanted more. You wanted me to work myself into the ground like you did. Or to have a baby, for Christ’s sake. God.”

My throat feels almost too dry to get any words out. “That’s not…”

“All you wanted was to be able to control me,” he hisses at me. “Well, now you don’t get to be the boss anymore. You’re not the smart one who knows everything anymore, who looks down on me because I’m not as good as you are. Because I don’t have any money and my career is in the shithole after you ruined my life.”

Clark and I were married for five years. He was… awful.

“Clark,” I manage. “I never…”

But Clark doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say. He’s on a roll.

“I’ve got news for you, Charlotte,” he says. “You better learn to get a lot more humble or else your life is going to be really crappy. Nobody is going to put up with your shit anymore looking the way you do now. I sure won’t.”

I look into Clark’s handsome face. I remember the first time I saw him, being so amazed that somebody like him could like somebody like me. And I was right. He never wanted me. He never liked me. He only targeted me because he believed I wrecked his marriage to Regina.

“Frankly,” Clark goes on, “I’ve been putting up with it for far too long. It’s gratifying to finally see you get what you deserve.”

Get what I deserve.

I deserve this.

You deserve this.

I stare at my husband, and suddenly the room starts to melt away. I’m in my apartment again. I open the door and there’s the man I believed to be Kyle Barry, holding Clark’s gun. “Hello, Dr. McKenna,” he says as he swings the gun in the direction of my face. I see his black eyes staring back at me. I hear the gunshot…

Next thing I remember, I am lying on the floor. I look up at the ceiling of my apartment, and I try to get up, but I can’t. I feel too weak. I think I’m dying. Oh God, I’m dying.

I hear the keys in the lock. I hear the heavy footsteps, and Clark’s voice calling out, “Charlotte?”

Clark. Thank God.