9
Through their performance, I remained silent.
Staring at Mark, I wondered when this man, the father of my child, had decided to kill me. We’d met through a mutual friend. Our five- year marriage hadn’t been perfect, but it had been… okay.
Mark was average–looking, average income.
I’d chosen him because he seemed stable,
reliable.
But after the crash, while I lay in a coma, he’d
been busy transferring our assets, rarely
visiting.
He’d dumped Lily on my parents. When I
woke up, a double amputee, I couldn’t face
reality.
My parents, trying to protect me, lied, saying
he was busy dealing with the legal aftermath.
I felt guilty, like a burden.
Finally, when I spoke out against the online
<
accusations, denying any attair, he produced
the “evidence”
R
screenshots of my notes
app, detailing my “hatred” for Jessica and my
“murder plot.”
And screenshots of flirty messages and
censored nudes I’d supposedly sent to
clients…
He became the internet’s sympathetic victim,
the wronged husband.
I spiraled into a deep depression, dying soon
after from complications related to the crash.
Grief–stricken, my parents tried to clear my
name by publishing my diary. They also hoped
to secure a peaceful future for Lily, who was
being bullied at daycare and showing signs of
autism.
Mark, under the guise of visiting Lily, stole my
diary.
As a ghost, I watched him rip it to shreds…
The truth, my innocence, my daughter’s
future — all destroyed by Mark.
Seeing him again, the hate was overwhelming.
