Old record

They say sound is the hardest thing to erase from memory.

Lots of folks cling to recordings of loved ones after they've passed,

But I never thought for a second that Liam would do this with my voice.

Not after what he did.

He's playing those old recordings of me non-stop since I died.

It's messed up.

1

I was practically a goner when they hauled me out of that abandoned warehouse. Even with the soot and smoke turning me unrecognizable, you could still see the mess of whip marks under my torn clothes, crisscrossed and raw. Every touch brought more blood. They’d torn my fingernails off my left hand, then snapped the fingers back at a weird angle.

The place was swarming with people. Cops who'd rescued me, paramedics yelling for me to stay awake, news crews looking for a story, and even my fake family, the Carters, who never gave a damn, were putting on a show, pretending to cry.

But in all that chaos, I didn't see Liam, my husband.

The kidnappers took me and Sarah Mitchell at the same time. He chose her, his precious "other woman," over me.

Even though every single piece of evidence pointed to the fact Sarah had set this whole thing up herself. Liam wouldn’t risk that tiny chance she wasn’t. He chose to let me be the one in danger, just to keep Sarah from a single scratch.

The guys could tell he didn't care if I lived, so they went wild, putting me through hell. The warehouse was pitch-black, screwing with my sense of time. All I remember is that spiked whip tearing into me, the sting of the salt water they kept pouring on my wounds, forcing me to come back to consciousness.

They even had the nerve to push me onto the concrete, grinning like maniacs. If the cops hadn't shown up, who knows what would have happened?

The ER lights burned all night. They pulled me back from the brink, but the one thing I was proudest of is gone.

Before this, I was the it-girl. I was known for my voice. Everyone in the music biz loved me, even the veterans. They said I had it, a real gift, like I was destined to be the next big thing.

Back home in Riverwood, I was Liam Carter’s wife, someone people treated with respect.

But now, with my throat ruined, there’s no way I can sing again.

And Liam? He doesn't love me. He sure as hell doesn’t care if I live or die. Compared to his “Sarah” I’m just some piece of trash.

I think I heard someone enter while I was dozing. I think it was my doctor. He was quietly updating Liam on my situation.

Liam didn't say anything for what seemed like forever.

Just when I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd feel a little something, he said, cold as ice, “It's probably for the best. Less noise is easier to handle.”

My heart dropped. Tears welled up, like a damn dam bursting.

2

When I woke up again, Liam was gone. A nurse was there, bitching about how irresponsible Liam was. Even she couldn't wrap her head around why he'd ditched his wife, who was literally fighting for her life, to go hang out with another woman. A woman who hadn't e...