Erased

Lyla Rose

_____

The sight of the needle makes my stomach twist in terror. I stumble backwards, my heart pounding in my chest. He's truly going through with this. He's going to drug me, force me to sign the papers, and lock me away. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

Dr Ryder steps forward cautiously, his movements slow and deliberate. He reaches for my arm, and I struggle to pull away, my body trembling in fear. “Let go!” I scream, my voice raw, desperate, as I try to fight him off.

But his grip is firm, unyielding. He pulls my arm up gently, but with force, the cool touch of the alcohol swab against my skin sends a shiver down my spine. “This won’t hurt, miss,” he says, his voice soft, almost too calm for what he’s about to do.

“Let go!” I scream again, my voice frantic as I struggle against Dr Ryder’s hold, but he doesn’t release me.

The needle presses into my arm, the sharp sting making my body tense. And then, the warmth spreads, slowly at first, and then all at once. My vision blurs, my limbs feel heavy, and my thoughts begin to fade, slipping through my fingers like sand. “There we go,” Dr Ryder murmurs, his words growing distant as the sedative takes hold.

I limp in his arms, unable to resist, the drug making me compliant, pliable. It feels as if my body is no longer my own, and I’m floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion.

Dr Ryder gently lowers me onto the bed, arranging my limbs with a tenderness that feels out of place. He turns to Vincent, who stands there, impassive, watching me with eyes that are unreadable. “It will take effect in about five minutes. She’ll be compliant, easy to handle.”

Vincent nods curtly, his face a mask of cold determination. “Wait outside,” he orders, and the doctor exits quietly, leaving us alone.

I remain on the bed, my body limp, feeling hot, uneasy, my mind struggling to piece together coherent thoughts. I can’t focus. It’s like I’m drowning in fog.

Vincent watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He picks up the divorce papers from the table and walks over to the bed, sitting down beside me. His presence is suffocating, the weight of his gaze making me feel even more fragile. He takes my limp hand and places it on the paper, curling my fingers around the pen. “Sign,” he says quietly, but firmly.

“Vincent...” I whimper, struggling to keep my eyes open. The pen feels foreign in my hand, but it’s there, the weight of it pulling my fingers down.

Vincent ignores my weak protest, his grip on my hand firm, guiding my fingers to the pen, forcing me to hold it. “Sign your name, Rose.” His voice is soft, coaxing, but there's something ruthless in it. He knows I’m too drugged to fight back. He presses my hand onto the paper, and I feel the pen moving, tracing out the first letter. “R…” he prompts, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Vincent... I love you,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Even in this haze, even as my body betrays me, my heart still belongs to him.

For a brief moment, I see something in his eyes: Pain? Regret? But it’s gone in an instant, buried beneath the ice of his resolve. He continues to guide my hand, his voice almost tender, but it doesn’t reach me. “I know, but now you’ve signed the divorce papers. It’s done.” His words are soft but final, slicing through me like a knife.

I feel myself slipping away, my breathing shallow and uneven. I close my eyes, the darkness swallowing me whole. And then, everything fades.

____

I wake with a start, gasping for air as the remnants of the drug still cloud my mind. Is it night now? I can barely remember; everything is a haze, like fog swirling around me, suffocating me. But then, the pieces fall together. He drugged me. The papers... the divorce papers. I signed them, didn't I? My heart stutters, panic rising in my chest. Did I?

I scramble to my feet, my legs weak beneath me as I stumble toward the stairs, my breath coming in short gasps. I don’t even know how I’m still standing, but the terror driving me is stronger than the drug still pulsing in my veins. I make it down to the living room, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks. My breath hitches, and I feel my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Vincent stands before me, the marriage certificate in his hands, his face cold, unyielding. His eyes lock onto mine for a brief moment, but they hold no warmth, only emptiness. His eyes flick to the woman standing next to him. Maria. A thick blonde woman, radiant in a wedding dress, her smile flawless, as if she’s won some prize she never had to fight for. And the guests, his father, his mother, his siblings, and friends, are gathered around them, watching as if this is just another celebration. As if I never existed.

I am truly divorced. My love, my Vincent, my husband, truly divorced me. He married another woman because I was infertile. My mind refuses to accept it, but my heart already knows, there’s no denying it now.

I choke out a sob, the agony clawing at my chest. But the words won’t come. All I can do is stand there, my whole body trembling, as I realize just how far he’s gone, how completely he’s erased me.

Vincent watches, impassive, as I break apart completely. My sobs rack my body, and the tears come like a flood, unstoppable. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, as he turns back to Maria, who stands beside him, uncomfortable but still smiling beautifully for the guests. It’s like nothing has changed for her, and yet everything is crumbling inside me.