People Don't Need Digging; Feeling Is the Truth

The third time Martin Vance locked me inside the psychiatric facility, he locked himself into the room next door with his own hands.

This time I'll stay with you.

He looked at me through the iron door, his shirt a wrinkled mess, his voice low and rough.

Satisfied now?

I sat on the hospital bed, the IV catheter from the sedative still taped into the back of my hand, and couldn't manage a smile.

Seven years.

He kept saying I was sick, and kept refusing to let me go.

I used to think that was the most twisted and the most unbreakable thing between us.

Until today, when he shut himself in of his own accord, just to beg one thing of me.

"Bella White's pregnant. The doctor says she can't be frightened."

"Stop going after her."

I stared at him and asked quietly, "You're locking me up because you're afraid I'll hurt her?"

He said nothing.

I turned my head toward the window and thought back over these seven absurd years.

The first time they put me in here was because I said Bella had tampered with my medication.

No one believed me.

The second time was after I lost the baby and wouldn't let go of its little clothes.

He said I couldn't accept reality.

Now, the third time, he finally believes I'm not crazy.

He's just afraid I'll hurt Bella.

I slowly pulled the needle out of the back of my hand. A bead of blood rolled free.

Martin's face changed. "What are you doing?"

"Martin, the only sickness I ever had was you."

"And now it's cured."

...

Martin shouted for someone to unlock the door like a man gone mad, rushed in, and gripped my arm.

He grabbed a cotton swab and pressed it to stop the bleeding, the pain in his eyes plain to see.

Then he turned and told the nurse, "Add another pill to her dose. She's still unstable."

The nurse pinched my chin and checked under my tongue, and only after making sure I hadn't hidden the pill did she step aside.

Martin stood in the doorway, watching me coldly.

"Learned your lesson this time?"

I nodded.

He froze.

He seemed to be waiting for me to do what I'd done the first two times, to curse him for a bastard while I begged him not to treat me this way.

But I just sat there.

The room reeked of disinfectant, and the pill dissolved in my throat, so bitter it went numb.

Martin bent down and took hold of my wrist.

He saw the bruise beside the needle mark, his eyes darkening for an instant, and stroked my hand gently.

"Anna Quinn, stop making trouble."

He lowered his voice.

"Bella's pregnant. The doctor says she can't be upset."

I raised my eyes. "You're really that afraid I'll go after her?"

He let out a small laugh.

"Aren't you always saying I only protect her and don't care about you?"

He lifted his hand, his fingertip brushing the corner of my lips.

"This time I'm staying with you. Satisfied now?"

He was always like this. A slap, then a sweet word.

That line used to drive me out of my mind.

I'd smash cups, bite his hand, demand to know how he could protect Bella and refuse to let me go all at once.

The truth is, I knew Martin loved me that way.

Wrecked, out of control, with no one in my eyes but him.

Once, after I'd cut my palm open, he bandaged it for me and murmured, "Anna, when you go mad like this, you really do love me."

Back then I cried until I shook, and somehow thought that if he was willing to hold me, I'd won.

Footsteps came from outside.

Bella braced herself against the door frame, pale-faced, one hand resting on her belly.

"Anna, I heard you pulled out your IV again today."

She looked at me, the rims of her eyes red at just the right amount.

"Don't hurt yourself like this."

Martin's gaze dropped back to the back of my hand.

Beside the needle mark was a spot of blood, already dry.

Bella shrank half a step behind him.

I knew that move well.

She shrinks, and Martin shields her.

Martin looked at me. "Apologize to her."

I asked, "Why?"

"You scared her."

Bella's voice was very small.

"It's all right, Martin. Anna didn't mean it. She just can't control herself."

Before, if I'd heard that line, I'd have flung myself off the bed to tear at her mouth and curse her with the filthiest words I knew.

Now I only spoke flatly.

"I'm sorry."

Martin stared at me, his face sinking bit by bit.

The nurse came in with fresh medication.

Martin glanced at it. "One more pill tonight."

The nurse hesitated. "Mr. Vance, Miss Quinn has been very quiet today already."

"Quiet doesn't mean cured."

Bella coaxed him gently. "Martin, don't be so harsh. You'll make Anna sad."

Martin watched me.

As if waiting for me to be sad.

But I only took the pills.

As the cup touched my lips, he suddenly pressed his hand over mine.

"Anna, you're really going to take them?"

I looked up. "Aren't you the one who told me to?"

His hand went stiff.

A few seconds later, he let go.

The pills slid down my throat.

Bella lowered her head and stroked her belly, the corner of her mouth twitching, just barely.

I saw it, but said nothing.

The next day, Martin sent over a bouquet of white roses.

He said, "You used to love these most."

I nodded.

The truth was, I hadn't loved them for a long time.

After my first miscarriage, Bella had come to my room holding white roses, saying she wanted to apologize to me on Martin's behalf.

I threw the flowers in the trash.

When she bent to pick them up, a thorn cut the back of her hand.

Martin walked in and saw her crouched on the floor, crying.

That was the first time he said it in front of an outsider. "Anna, can you not act like a lunatic?"

After that, white roses became my nightmare.

Just the sight of them and I couldn't breathe.

But now they sat there, the scent drifting over in waves, and all I felt was a little stifled.

Martin sat down at the edge of the bed and set a treatment consent form in front of me.

"You've been doing well these past few days. A few more and you can go home."

Bella pushed the door open, a thermal container in her hand.

"Anna, I made you some porridge."

Martin stood and took it from her. "You're pregnant. You shouldn't be doing this."

Bella lowered her head and smiled. "I want to make it up to Anna."

She lifted a spoon to my mouth.

I didn't open it.

Martin frowned. "She made it for you."

I took the bowl and had a sip.

The porridge was sweet.

Cloyingly sweet.

It made me think of the first time I said there was something wrong with the medicine she gave me, and that had been because of a bowl of porridge that tasted off, too, right after the pills.

I went to check the kitchen cameras. The footage had been deleted.

I took the pill bottle to Martin. He was with Bella, having her try on a dress.

Bella ducked behind him.

I hurled the bottle at the mirror. Broken glass scattered across the floor.

Martin pulled Bella into his arms, and the look in his eyes went cold, bit by bit.

"Anna, no one is trying to hurt you."

But after that day, I stopped sleeping. Night after night, only sleeping pills got me through.

Bella asked softly, "Is it good?"

I set the bowl down. "It's good."

She looked at me, and she seemed a little disappointed too.

Martin suddenly reached out and touched my face.

"So obedient today?"

I didn't pull away.

His fingers stayed against the side of my face for a long time.

"Anna." He lowered his voice. "Behave, and it's not as if I can't be good to you."

The words were like sugar, and like a knife.

Before, all he had to do was call me that and my eyes would sting.

Now I only noticed that his fingertips were a little cold.

Bella suddenly produced a small box.

"Oh, right, Anna, here. This is yours."

She opened it. Inside was a ring.

My engagement ring.

The one that had vanished after my miscarriage.

Back then I turned the whole bedroom over, knelt on the floor reaching under the bed, crying, asking everyone if they'd seen it.

No one admitted to anything.

Martin said I was out of control after the birth, determined to turn the whole house upside down.

Now the ring had turned up in Bella's hands.

Her explanation came quickly.

"A maid packed it into my luggage by accident. I only found it yesterday."

I took the ring.

Two extra letters were engraved on the inner band.

Not mine.

I placed the ring back in her palm.

"It's yours now."

Bella's eyes flickered with panic. "Anna, that's not what I meant."

Martin's voice went low. "Who engraved that?"

Bella bit her lip. "I don't know."

For the first time, Martin didn't rush to comfort her.

He stared at the ring, something burning under his eyes.

If it had been the old days, I would have used the moment to cry, to ask him whether he believed me.

But now I only pulled the blanket higher, my attention on that window that hadn't been shut properly.

Martin suddenly looked at me.

"Anna, you're not angry?"

I closed my eyes. "I'm a little tired."

The room fell strangely quiet.

A long while later, I heard him tell the nurse, "Don't increase her dosage today."

I didn't open my eyes.

The truth was, more or less, it didn't seem to make any difference.

The day I was discharged, Martin came to pick me up himself.

Bella sat in the passenger seat, his coat draped over her knees.

I opened the rear door.

Martin watched me in the mirror. "You're sitting in the back?"

I climbed in. "Mm."

His fingertip tapped once against the wheel.

"Anna Quinn, look how well-behaved you've gotten."

Bella turned around at once. "Annie's still not well, Martin. Don't tease her."

Soft piano music was playing in the car.

It used to be my favorite piece.

Once, to get Martin to take me to a concert, I waited outside his study for three hours.

When he finally came out, Bella called to say she'd had a nightmare.

He picked up his coat and left.

I grabbed hold of him, wouldn't let him go.

That night I smashed every record in his study. The shards cut open the soles of my feet, and I chased him to the elevator, tracking blood the whole way.

Martin carried me back, bandaging my feet while he asked,

"You can't stand to be away from me, can you?"

Back then I went mad, and he was satisfied. He took care of me, and I was satisfied too.

I thought the two of us would go on tangled up in each other forever. But every song ends eventually.

When the music stopped, Bella suddenly said, "Martin, I want the dumpling soup from that place on the south side."

Martin glanced at the time.

Today was my birthday.

He'd promised me: every year, on my birthday, he'd sit with me over a birthday dinner.

Martin turned the wheel.

Bella acted like she'd only just remembered.

"Annie, isn't today your birthday? I'm so sorry, the morning sickness has been so bad, it slipped my mind."

I said, "It's fine."

Martin looked at me in the mirror.

"Really fine?"

"Mm."

"Anna Quinn." His voice went cold. "Don't play this back-off-to-get-ahead game with me."

I looked out the window.

The trees along the street slid backward, their shadows flickering past in pieces.

Inside the restaurant, Bella sat beside him.

He picked the scallions out of her bowl, blew on the hot broth to cool it, and nudged her chair over toward him so no one would bump into her.

I sat across from them.

The owner brought out a birthday dinner.

"This gentleman ordered it ahead of time."

Martin looked at me, his tone flat. "I didn't forget."

Bella's face stiffened for a second, then she smiled quickly. "Martin's so thoughtful."

I picked up my fork and took a bite.

It didn't taste like anything.

Martin stared at me. "Is it good?"

I nodded. "It's all right."

He suddenly set his fork down.

"Anna Quinn, what exactly do you want from me?"

A few tables turned to look.

I raised my head. "What?"

"I remembered your birthday. I ordered your dinner. I came to bring you home from that place."

There was fire pressed under his voice.

"So who is this face for?"

Bella murmured, "Martin..."

He ignored her.

His eyes on me were heavy and sharp, like he wanted to tear me out of all this quiet.

"You never used to be like this."

Each word deliberate.

"You'd cry, you'd throw fits, you'd curse me for playing favorites, you'd flip the table. What's this act now?"

"When did you learn to do the silent-treatment thing? Fine. You win. Happy?"

I looked at him, and it struck me as strange.

"Didn't you say I was sick when I acted like that?"

Martin stopped, unable to say a word.

Bella suddenly clutched her stomach. "Martin, it hurts a little."

Martin was steadying her almost instantly.

"Where does it hurt?"

Bella leaned into his arms, tears falling.

"Maybe the scare from earlier did it."

I didn't look at them again. I kept my head down and ate.

I didn't notice the way Martin was watching me from across the table, as if he'd never known me at all.

Back at the villa, the staff had the birthday cake ready.

Martin lit the candles.

The flames flickered in his eyes.

"Make a wish."

I closed my eyes.

My mind stayed empty for a long time, and then one thought slowly surfaced.

Go.

Don't stay here anymore.

I blew out the candles.

Martin gripped my wrist, his voice low. "What did you wish for?"

I gave a small tug, but couldn't pull free.

He watched me, then started to smile. "Did you wish that you love me again?"

I looked at him.

There was a certainty in his eyes.

Certain that I could never get past him.

Certain that no matter how much it hurt, in the end I would still turn back and hold him.

I said nothing.

He took that as agreement, and kissed my forehead, pleased.

"You don't need to wish for that. I'll always love you."

The candlelight swayed, lighting up his smile.

For a second, it really did look like a scene out of some warm, tender movie.

That night, I couldn't tell whether he was happy or sad. I only watched him drink a great deal.

I looked at his sleeping face, and it was as if, across all that time, I saw the man I first met.

Back then he'd stood at the university gate holding a bunch of bellflowers, bright and full of himself.

"I'm Martin Vance. You're going to fall in love with me soon."

He wasn't wrong.

Looking back now, maybe from the very first meeting he'd already seen straight through me.

This love had tangled us up for seven years. Now it was time for it to end.

At four in the morning, I dragged my suitcase out of the walk-in closet.

I only took a few old clothes, my ID, one bank card, and a copy of my medical records.

Everything Martin had bought me, I left behind.

The door pushed open.

Martin stood in the doorway, his robe loose, shadows under his eyes.

"Where are you going?"

I shut the case. "Leaving."

He looked at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"No wonder you've been so quiet these past few days. Waiting here to spring this on me."

He walked in and pressed his hand down on the suitcase handle.

"How many days are you planning to hide this time? How long will the phone be off? When I find you, are you going to hold me and cry again, tell me you were wrong?"

Martin lifted a hand to touch my face.

"Anna, my patience has limits. You've made your point. That's about enough."

I turned my head away.

His hand stopped.

"I'm not making a scene."

"Then what do you want?"

"To leave you."

The smile drained completely off Martin's face.

"Say that again."

"I'm leaving you."

The room went frighteningly quiet.

The next second he yanked my wrist and dragged me to the wardrobe.

He threw the doors open.

A wall of luxury goods hit my eyes.

"Leave me?"

His voice dropped, cold.

"Anna, you eat what I give you, use what I give you. I'm the one who treated your illness, and I'm the one who pulled your life back out of your own hands, again and again. And now you tell me you're leaving?"

I looked at him. "Then I'll give it all back."

I set the bank card down on the vanity.

"Your money, I'll pay back slowly."

"If I can't pay it off, I'll just keep paying."

He looked at me like he'd heard a joke, his eyes dark and vicious.

"Pay it back with what?"

"I can work."

"What can you do?"

He stepped closer.

"Smash things? Follow people? Bang on someone's door in the pouring rain? Or drive yourself into a facility so I have to go fish you out in the middle of the night?"

He laid out those old things one by one, and I couldn't argue with a single one of them.

Martin watched my silence like he had the upper hand.

He reached out and tipped up my chin, his tone suddenly softening.

"Anna, I know you've been wronged."

His thumb brushed my cheek.

"But Bella's different. Her father took on debt to protect mine. I promised I'd look after her. She's pregnant now. I can't just abandon her."

He paused, his voice going lower.

"Once she's had the baby, I'll send her away."

"The one I want has always been you."

How nice it sounded.

If I hadn't listened to it for seven years, I might still believe it.

I took his hand off me.

"Then go want someone else."

Martin's eyes changed in an instant.

"Anna, don't push me into sending you back."

I looked at him. "Send me."

He froze.

I took the lawyer's letter out of my bag and set it on the table.

"If you restrict my freedom again, I'll go to the police. And I'll sue the facility and everyone who signed off on it."

Martin stared at the document, the color draining from his face bit by bit.

"You had this ready all along?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

I thought about it.

"Probably since I found out I couldn't cry anymore."

Outside the door, Bella stood holding the railing, her voice trembling.

"Martin, my stomach hurts"

Martin didn't turn around right away.

Bella called out again.

I lifted my suitcase and stepped around him.

At the doorway, he suddenly clamped down on my wrist.

"Anna, if you walk out that door today, don't come back regretting it."

I looked down at his hand.

A few seconds later, he let go.

Because Bella started crying.

I went downstairs, opened the door, and walked out.

The pre-dawn wind was cold against my face.

I flagged down a car and gave the airport.

It was two hours later before Martin saw what I'd left on the dining table.

The bank card, the lawyer's letter, and a copy of the medical records.

At the very bottom of the records was the doctor's handwritten assessment.

Note: Patient has taken emotion-suppressing medication long-term; suspected overdose has resulted in emotional non-responsiveness.

The paper crumpled out of shape in his grip.

He thought back over everything strange about me these past days, as if I'd become a different person.

Bella came downstairs with a coat over her shoulders and edged carefully toward him.

"Martin, is Anna trying to make you go find her again?"

Martin slowly raised his head.

That one look was cold enough to drain the color from her face.

He held the medical records, his voice cracked beyond recognition.

When he turned to go, his steps faltered for the first time.

"She really doesn't want me anymore."