“The plow just cleared the main road up to the ridge. Some fresh air will do wonders for you and the baby. We’ve been cooped up for too long.” “Carter, I’m so tired,” I protested, my voice trembling slightly. “My back is killing me.
Can’t we just stay by the fire?” His eyes flashed with a dark, cold impatience that made my blood run cold.
The charming husband routine vanished for a split second, replaced by something entirely predatory. “It wasn’t a request,” he said quietly. “Get dressed.” I knew I had no choice. Refusing him there, inside the isolated cabin where no one could hear me scream, would only make him strike sooner.
At least outside, there might be a passing snowplow or a hiker. We drove in suffocating silence to the edge of the Aspen overlook. The wind howled through the pines, whipping sharp, stinging ice against my face as we stepped out of the SUV. “Look at that view,” he murmured, gripping my elbow tight enough to bruise.
He walked me right to the edge of the cliff. The drop was easily two hundred feet into a rocky ravine, currently blanketed by thick snowdrifts. “It’s beautiful,” I lied, my heart hammering in my throat. I tried to step back, but his grip tightened like a vice.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I really am,” he whispered into my ear. And then, he shoved me. I didn’t even have time to scream. I just remember the sensation of falling, the sickening rush of wind, and my hands instinctively flying down to protect my stomach.
By some absolute miracle, I didn’t hit the jagged rocks below. The recent blizzard had created a massive, incredibly deep snowdrift on a ledge about forty feet down the cliff face.
I crashed into the powder, the impact knocking the wind out of me, but the soft snow cushioned the fall just enough to save my life.
I tumbled a few more feet before coming to a stop in a cluster of dense pine branches. I lay there, bruised, freezing, and terrified, looking up at the ridge. Through the branches, I saw Carter peering over the edge. I held my breath, playing dead in the snow, praying he wouldn’t see the rise and fall of my chest.
Satisfied that I was gone, he turned around. A few moments later, I heard the SUV start up and drive away. I was completely alone, freezing to death on the side of a mountain. But anger is a powerful fuel. I managed to drag myself out of the drift.
It took me three hours of agonizing, crawling effort through waist-deep snow to reach the main road. Just as hypothermia was truly setting in and my vision was fading to black, a county plow driver found me collapsed by the guardrail. I woke up in a sterile hospital room two days later.
