Page 34 of The Me I Left Behind

Peripherally, she saw her fall to her knees. Tyler helped her up.

But what came next—even though she knew what to expect, her husband in prime form—was worse than anything before.

“You. Fucking. Cunt.” He backhanded her across the face with a force that sent her sailing into the wall. At once, her jaw cracked and felt like it was coming off her face. Her head dented the sheet rock, sending plaster flying, and her body crumbled to the floor.

“Mom!” Carol screamed. “Dad! Stop!”

Maggie shook her spinning head and tried to focus on Carol, while attempting to pull up into a sitting position. Her vision was blurry, but she kept blinking and found her. Tyler held her back.

“Go,” she uttered.

“Mom, no!”

“Tyler. Take her. Now.”

The last thing she saw was Carol’s eyes, and the boy she didn’t really know, rushing her daughter away from the madness.

The only sensationshe felt at the moment was relief.

Relief that the kids were out of the house. Relief that Chloe and Jason were safe.

Those things were all that mattered.

And oddly, relief that Max was here and dealing with her for what she’d done. The anticipation of his coming wrath would have driven her insane had he waited and let her stew on it for a while—wondering how he was going to punish her for breaking into this office.

From what she could tell, she was still in Carol’s room, lying on her side, her left cheek pressed into the prickly carpet. After the kids had left, Max had struck her once more, this time square in the face, and she’d blacked out.

Her breathing was shallow, barely lifting her chest, and she measured every breath like it was her heartbeat. Maybe they were one and the same. With breath, there was a heartbeat. Without a heartbeat, there was no breath. One relied on the other. And right now, it seemed she had both things going for her.

But not much else.

She rapidly blinked her eyes open wide, staring across the bedroom floor. A pile of clothes over there. The legs of Carol’s bed. A pair of sneakers. Cymba, their yellow house cat, poked her head out of the closet. Max sat in the chair at Carol’s makeup table.

She breathed deeper and let the air out slowly.

“Time to wake up, Maggie. We need to talk.”

He crossed the room and bent to grab her forearm, forcing her into a standing position.

“You’re home. Early,” she spit out.

He grinned. “Surprised you, huh?” He half-dragged, half-walked her over to the bed. Her head fell forward. Dizzy. “Sit.”

“How.” Still finding her words. Somewhere in the depths of her brain, though, she couldn’t understand his being there, yet. Earlier than she’d expected.To throw me fucking off course, that is why.

“Charter jet services can work wonders in a pinch.”

Ah.“Expensive.”

“Oh, but so worth it to see your face, darling, when I walked through that door.”

Element of surprise.

“Did you know the cops called me when Carol had the wreck? They called me first, sweetheart.”

Shit. Why?

“How fucking stupid of you to let her take the kids to school while you were poking around in my things.”