Buried Beneath
Bringing it close, I inhaled only the stale scent of old wood and mothballs. No trace of recent laundering. It lay crammed in that obscure corner, deliberately concealed beneath David’s socks and underwear. The discovery twisted my stomach into knots. Nausea surged—I dashed to the bathroom, retching over the toilet bowl but producing nothing. Splashing cold water on my face, I stared into the mirror at a ghostly reflection.
Chilling Realization
My heart pounded fiercely against my ribs, aching with each beat. Unbidden thoughts cascaded through my mind. How? What had happened? Why? Questions hammered me relentlessly. Clutching the sink, legs faltering, I realized this wasn’t fiction—it was my bed, my husband’s closet drawer. Returning to the wardrobe, that pink undergarment lay crumpled on the floor like a glaring stain.
Sealed Evidence
I gazed at it for seconds. It couldn’t stay. Retrieving a sturdy brown paper bag from a shopping remnant, I slipped on disposable kitchen gloves—still sealed in their box. Handling it through the gloves, I stuffed the item inside, folded the bag shut securely, and buried it in a seldom-opened drawer reserved for important documents. My hands shook uncontrollably. I needed answers. This was now my "evidence."
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Bringing it close, I inhaled only the stale scent of old wood and mothballs. No trace of recent laundering. It lay crammed in that obscure corner, deliberately concealed beneath David’s socks and underwear. The discovery twisted my stomach into knots. Nausea surged—I dashed to the bathroom, retching over the toilet bowl but producing nothing. Splashing cold water on my face, I stared into the mirror at a ghostly reflection.
Chilling Realization
My heart pounded fiercely against my ribs, aching with each beat. Unbidden thoughts cascaded through my mind. How? What had happened? Why? Questions hammered me relentlessly. Clutching the sink, legs faltering, I realized this wasn’t fiction—it was my bed, my husband’s closet drawer. Returning to the wardrobe, that pink undergarment lay crumpled on the floor like a glaring stain.
Sealed Evidence
I gazed at it for seconds. It couldn’t stay. Retrieving a sturdy brown paper bag from a shopping remnant, I slipped on disposable kitchen gloves—still sealed in their box. Handling it through the gloves, I stuffed the item inside, folded the bag shut securely, and buried it in a seldom-opened drawer reserved for important documents. My hands shook uncontrollably. I needed answers. This was now my "evidence."
NEXT >>
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