By Submission

Prologue

I launched out of bed, heart pounding, every inch of me slick with a cold sweat. My fingers grappled with the soaked fabric of my nightgown as I whipped my head around in a panic to check the other side of the bed.

Empty.

My hand hovered over the spot as I hesitated a moment before pressing it down into the cold, vacant space.

It was just a dream.

The relief flooding over me was immense. A cloud of emotion covered me as I looked over to the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. Two forty-seven. I hadn’t even been asleep for two hours but I knew more sleep wouldn’t be coming. Not after my mind had forced me to relive the terror.

The nurses running in and out of the room.

The beeping of the heart monitor.

The inaudible words as I faded in and out of consciousness.

Him.

“Oh my God, Val. You’re okay.” James’ voice cracked and he sounded like the worried partner who was glad I had survived.

I knew better.

As his face came into focus his eyes were bloodshot, but I knew it wasn’t because he was concerned I wouldn’t wake up.

James leaned in and attempted to pull me into his embrace. His touch made my stomach churn.

I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t escape.

My voice was hoarse and raspy from what I could only imagine had been a breathing tube shoved down my throat.

I desperately needed to get the nurse's attention, somehow, and tell her whatever story they were told was all a lie, but I couldn’t move.

I’m not even sure anyone would have believed me if I had.

His gaslighting had nearly convinced even me of an alternate reality. But laying there, in a hospital bed, things became clear.

I needed to leave, even if I didn't know where to go.

I needed time. Time I wasn't sure I still had.