“I haven’t done anything!” Caroline said. “All I do, all I’ve done since you married me, is take care of you and Skye!”
Caroline clutched Phil’s hand, but he jerked away. Her ring—a three-carat diamond, bright and inquisitive as a rat’s eye—caught his thumb, tearing a b****y line in the flesh.
He swore. Skye stopped singing. Caroline stopped breathing. The rats scurried rhythmically in the basement, enthused by Skye’s song and the smell of blood.
“Please don’t fight! I won’t go with King Rat. I don’t want to be a princess!” Skye wailed.
Phil left the room, shooting Caroline a disgusted look.
They’re dancing, Caroline realized, breathing again. The rats in the basement are dancing.
––––––––
Even when Phil was furious, he wanted to screw her. Sometimes, Caroline felt more like an e
