Chapter 2: Scars, Secrets, and Survivors

The bruises on Marissa’s body were hard to see, but seven years ago, I’d seen worse—much worse. The memories came back in flashes: harsh hospital lights, the sharp scent of blood, machines beeping like alarms in the night. I couldn’t shake them.

That girl’s condition was beyond hellish—"shocking" didn’t even start to describe it. The doctors looked haunted, nurses whispered in the halls, no one meeting my eyes.

Her insides were torn apart, blood bubbling from her mouth. It was a nightmare.

After surgery, she barely survived. They had to remove a section of her intestine, leaving a huge, ugly scar across her belly. There wasn’t a single spot on her that hadn’t been marked by pain.

The skin on her arm had been burned off—her husband set her on fire just to see if whiskey would catch fire. The smell of burned flesh haunted me for years.

That patch of skin was a different color. Even until she died, those scars still hurt. Sometimes, if she moved too fast, she’d gasp—biting down on her lip, desperate not to let anyone see.

When she died, Ethan Langston was in prison. But it didn’t feel like justice.

The doctors tried everything, but her injuries were too much. She only lived three more years. Those years were a carousel of hospital beds, endless surgeries, and the constant ache of old wounds.

At her funeral, Ethan’s family sent a giant funeral wreath with a ribbon that said 'Congratulations.' I stared at it, numb. Was it a joke? A threat? My hands shook with rage.

She’d barely survived Ethan Langston, and after all that, he only got nine years. Nine years for a lifetime of pain.

Prosecutors downgraded the charges—called it a 'domestic dispute'—and he dodged a murder charge. How could they?

Ethan only served six years. He got out the year before last. Six years. That’s all.

The first thing he did was go to that girl’s grave and kick it. He stood there, sneering.

He spat, "Stupid woman, you died before I got out, huh? I told you I wouldn’t let you off! Made me do time—serves you right."

Then his parents pushed him into marrying Marissa. Like nothing had happened.

Marissa once told me Ethan changed his name and started over. After so many years, who would remember what he’d done? It made me sick.

Besides, all the attention was on the victim—who ever cared about the abuser? The papers ran her story for a week, then forgot. No one asked what happened to Ethan. Nobody cared.

Ethan’s family covered it up, and they had money—plenty of it. Marissa’s family had no idea she was marrying a monster.

Not long after the wedding, the beatings started. First, slaps. Then tables, chairs, even the back of a knife. No one stopped him.

She begged her in-laws for help, but they always took Ethan’s side. Every time she tried to complain, he’d beat her harder. No one cared.

With parents like that, what did you expect from their son? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

She tried calling her own parents for help, but Ethan grabbed her by the throat: "Go ahead, call them over—I’ll beat them too. You’ve got a little sister in college, right? She visited us last summer, didn’t she?"

Marissa said the most hopeless moment was when she called the cops. She thought someone would help. She was wrong.

When the door opened, the officer who showed up was Ethan’s old buddy from high school. Small town, small world—everyone looking out for their own.

Everyone told her to just make up and move on. In cases like these, the police always tried to 'mediate' first. It was all about keeping the peace, not protecting her.

After that call, Ethan knocked out two of her teeth and broke her leg, saying she’d embarrassed him. Later, he claimed she fell down the stairs. No one questioned it.

Why didn’t she run? She tried. Even when she fled to another city, Ethan always found her.

Once he did, things got worse—real hell on earth. He told her, "As long as you’re my wife, don’t even think about escaping me."

But this time, she was smarter than the girl I’d met years ago. She found me. She was desperate, but she wasn’t stupid.

My office specializes in handling messy breakups and divorces. The kind of place people come to when they’ve got nowhere else to go. The last stop before giving up.

I had him wrapped around my finger in no time. Every move, every word was part of the plan.

But his parents wanted nothing to do with me. They said a woman like me wasn’t worth much. Not once did they mention it was Ethan who cheated.

Mr. Langston looked down his nose at me, Mrs. Langston rolled her eyes, tossing out barbs every chance she got.

"Your taste just keeps getting worse. We set you up with Marissa—someone we knew well. After more than a year, everyone said you two were so in love, and now you’re divorcing her for some homewrecker!"

I wanted to laugh in their faces. Of course they picked someone easy to control. Marissa’s family had no backbone—they knew exactly what their son was like.

When Marissa begged them for help, Mr. and Mrs. Langston only told Ethan, "Be careful where you hit her—don’t leave marks where people can see. It’d be embarrassing if word got out."

Those two weren’t just bystanders—they were accomplices. They’d perfected the art of looking away. Disgusting.

Ethan always bragged he was the only son, that even if he brought the sky down, his parents would cover for him. And he was right.

They really would. Back when he was on trial, his parents were sending threatening messages to the victim. "If you don’t sign the settlement, we won’t let you go. We’ll ruin your whole family, make sure you can’t survive."

Facing these two, I kept my head down, acting meek and obedient. Inside, I was seething.

Ethan quickly jumped in: "Mom, Dad, I really love Natalie. Just let it go. I already met her parents—they’re regular folks. Natalie’s an only child, smart, studied abroad, open-minded. She doesn’t care that I’ve been married before."

Mr. Langston’s eyes narrowed, calculating. Mrs. Langston’s contempt was written all over her face. She snorted, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"She’s at least good-looking enough not to embarrass you. But no engagement, no ceremony—just went to the courthouse and signed the license? That’s not open-minded, that’s trashy."

I looked at Ethan, eyes full of fake affection, putting on my best wounded act. For a second, I let myself look small. "I know how we got here isn’t right. I just love you too much. If your mom says no wedding, then let’s skip it—no need to give people something to laugh at."

Ethan’s face darkened. "Who’d dare laugh at me? We’ll throw a huge wedding! When I married Marissa, it was simple because my parents handled it. But this time, I want a real one. Sure, I’ve been married before, but Natalie hasn’t—she deserves it. And besides, she’s…"

Of course I needed a wedding. Only then would everyone know, officially, that I was his wife. That was the whole point. No one could deny it.

Hearing that, their faces changed. Even Mr. Langston, who usually looked down his nose at me, glanced at my stomach. They rushed Ethan into a second marriage because he didn’t have any kids yet. That’s all they cared about.

Marissa once told me, in her early pregnancy, Ethan beat her until she bled all over the bed—only then did she realize she’d lost the baby. The memory made my skin crawl.

Mrs. Langston eyed my stomach. "Fine, let’s do it quick, before you start showing."

I clenched my fists, sneering to myself. Does a family like this even deserve to have kids? Hell no.