Descending Into the Hell of Love

My boyfriend's first love and I roll down the stairs at the same time. I'm unscathed, but she passes out.

He's furious and orders people to break my limbs, drug me, and throw me into a kennel. "I'll make you pay a hundredfold for the pain Jean experienced!"

I think about the hurricane warning I saw earlier and endure the pain while pleading with him. "Please don't do this, Jason! I'll die!"

He sneers at my begging and holds Jean close while she continues acting like she's unconscious. He snaps, "It's too late to beg for mercy now!"

It's pouring outside, and the wind whips everything around. Thunder cracks and lightning flashes, but I'm still thrown outside.

Two days later, Jason instructs someone to get me. "Go get her. Jean wants to have her cooking!"

What he doesn't know is that I'll never stand before him again. Not alive, anyway.

"Where the heck is she?"

Jason York looked impatient when he saw no one behind the maid. "Tell her to hurry up and make us something to eat. It's rare that Jean feels like eating, so tell her to get cooking!"

The maid, Fleur Smith, had just returned from the backyard. She was pale and shaking as she lowered her head and said, "The… the shed in the backyard collapsed. Mrs. York might be in danger…"

Jason froze for a moment before letting out a cold laugh. "Well, aren't you a loyal one? What's this? Are you putting on a show together so that I'll sympathize with you?

"Get her here before I lose my patience, or she won't be getting any meals for the next three days!"

Fleur kept her head low, but her resolve was firm. "Mr. York, I think you should go take a look for yourself," she insisted. "Mrs. York has done a lot for the family. How can you be so cruel..."

"Are you trying to tell me what to do? I know you're loyal to her, but you're just a servant. You have no right to interfere in our business!" Jason snapped. He glared at her furiously. "If she insists on sulking and refuses to come, then she'd better stay out of my sight forever!"

I laughed bitterly. If he knew that I was dead, would he laugh?

Fleur was just about to say something when Jean Sullivan appeared in her wheelchair. She shot Fleur a sharp glare.

In contrast, her voice was soft and gentle as she said to Jason, "Jace, I thought we agreed not to lose your temper so often. It's not good for your mania. You don't have to bother with the servants, anyway."

Jason's tone softened when he met Jean's gaze. "Why didn't you ask someone to help you with the wheelchair? How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. I can move around myself," Jean replied. "Is Chelsea still mad at you? Maybe you should talk to her, Jason. She's feeling insecure. That's why she treated me like that. It's