Chapter 5 - The Trap Closes
The sheriff grabbed me by the collar and aggressively threw me against the hard tile floor.
He was a close personal friend of my mother, having attended her weekly church group for over a decade.
"Patricia told me you were completely losing your mind, Ethan," the sheriff growled in disgust.
I desperately tried to explain the forged prescription and the stolen camera footage.
He ignored every single word I said, roughly clicking another heavy pair of handcuffs onto my wrists.
He dragged me through the hospital corridors, parading me like a violent criminal in front of the medical staff.
As we passed the intensive care unit, I saw through the glass window that Hannah was finally awake.
She was sitting up in her hospital bed, looking incredibly fragile and terrified.
I fought against the sheriff's grip, screaming her name with all the love and desperation in my soul.
Hannah slowly turned her head and locked eyes with me through the thick glass panel.
I expected to see relief wash over her beautiful, exhausted face.
Instead, her eyes widened in absolute, unmistakable horror.
She frantically pressed the red panic button on the side of her bed rail.
"Get him away from me!" she shrieked hysterically, her voice muffled by the heavy glass.
My entire world shattered into a million jagged pieces in that exact agonizing moment.
The woman I loved more than life itself was looking at me like I was a monster.
The sheriff smiled cruelly and shoved me toward the waiting elevator doors.
"Even your own abused wife knows exactly what kind of psychotic animal you truly are," he mocked loudly.
I realized with a sickening twist in my stomach exactly what Patricia had done during those three days.
She had not just physically tortured Hannah and starved our newborn son.
She had spent hours whispering venomous lies into Hannah's ear while my wife was heavily drugged and hallucinating.
Patricia had completely convinced Hannah that I was the mastermind behind the entire horrific ordeal.
I was thrown into the back of a police transport van and driven to the maximum-security county jail.
They stripped me of my clothes, dressed me in an orange jumpsuit, and tossed me into a freezing concrete holding cell.
I sat on the hard metal bench, burying my face in my hands as hot tears of absolute defeat streamed down my face.
Suddenly, a quiet, unfamiliar police officer approached the thick iron bars of my cell.
May you like
He glanced around nervously to make sure nobody was watching before sliding a metal food tray under the door.
Resting on top of the stale sandwich was a cheap, black burner phone.
