Instead of clawing at his hands, I let my arms fall to my sides and looked directly into his eyes. My voice, when it finally came, was hoarse but steady.
“Take your hands off me.”
For a moment he didn’t move. Perhaps he expected begging, or tears, or apologies like the ones I had offered so many times before. But there was none of that now.
Only silence.
His grip loosened slightly.
“Did you hear me?” I said, louder this time. “Take your hands off me.”
Something in my tone must have reached him, because he finally released me. I staggered backward, grabbing the edge of the table to steady myself while the room spun. My lungs burned as I forced air back into them.
Behind him, his wife was still leaning against the doorframe. The smile on her face had faded a little now, replaced by something closer to curiosity.
