Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 3 A Laughable Motive

five-fingered cage. She yowled, and the aggressor pulled her wrist up high enough to make Deirdre meet his scornful eyes. “I really underestimated you, didn’t I, Deirdre McKinnon? I didn’t think a spineless wimp like you would defy me like this, but you surprised me!” His fury was palpable, and Deirdre’s voice quaked in reply, “P-P-Please, Brendan, I… I’m not asking for much! I just want my child to live…” “You honestly think I’m stupid enough to believe you!” Brendan scoffed. Contempt and disgust pooled into his eyes. “Don’t you dare think I’m too stupid to know what you’re trying to do, b*tch. You’d rather pretend to be Charlene forever, even if it meant erasing Deirdre McKinnon’s existence, than go back to being your pathetic self. Would you really leave my sight without any complaints after carrying that unwanted thing to term, hmm? No. I don’t think so. After all, you already had the nerve to defy me! What’s gonna happen after the child is born? You’ll attract a media circus to advertise the kid’s existence? Hmph. Wouldn’t be the first time a b*tch like you would debase herself by coming up with such a disgusting plot.” Deirdre’s eyes reddened. His words were too caustic, even for him. He stabbed her heart callously, twisted the knife, and pulled it out as if her pain meant nothing. She loved him. Undeserving and insignificant as her love was, she loved him—and yet, to him, it was just another laughable conspiracy. “I… I—” “You what? You want to keep this child no matter what it takes? Spare me the bullsh*t of keeping the child as a memento of your ‘love’ for me when we break up. Your imagination is disgusting!” Brendan jeered, almost too gleefully. “I’m not stupid, Deirdre. I know what you’re doing. So how about you do as I say, go to the hospital, and terminate your pregnancy like a good girl? It’s either that, or you’ll feel my wrath!”  Deirdre had already known the depths of Brendan’s cruelty all too well. She had known he was like this all this time. Her lips trembled. Fortunately, Madame Brighthall finally re-emerged from the kitchen. The strange atmosphere weighed down on her, and immediately, she frowned and stepped between them, shielding Deirdre. “What’s going on?” “Nothing, Mom. The truth is, she’s only here because she’s weirdly peeved at me today,” Brendan explained. “Don’t worry, though. We’re done talking. She’s going home with me.” “Pardon me, Brendan, but why would Lena run all the way to my house if you were a good husband, hmm? Face it. You’re just not as good as you think you are!” Madame Brighthall declared. She was not going to stand on her son’s side just because! Shielding Deirdre behind her, she cooed, “There, there. Ignore him, Lena. Stay here with me if you’re still mad at him, okay? I’ll gladly go on a shopping spree with you every day!” Brendan frowned. “Don’t, mom.” Deirdre shrank behind the older woman’s back. Frightened eyes darted across the man’s face before she clenched her jaw and replied, “You’re right, mom. I… don’t want to go back. I want to stay here for at least a couple of days.” All hell seemed to break loose inside Brendan’s head. A squall was cackling in sheer ferocity behind those black eyes, and if looks could kill, Deirdre would die of suffocation right there and then. She became defensively quiet. Then, Brendan clenched his fists slowly. The air around him seemed to have frozen in response to his silent lividity about being defied. Milliseconds crawled by until, suddenly, he laughed. “I get it. You’re mad because I’ve been burying myself in work at your expense. Alright, I hear you. I’ll stay with you here. Once you feel better, we’ll go home together.” Brendan had donned one of his most winning smiles. To Deirdre, it seemed as though her collective nightmares were grinning at her. Her breath hitched in her throat, her face paled, and it took