“Just kill me, Marshall.” Andra Grant swallowed. Her throat ached as the words slipped between her dry lips.
“Why do you make me hurt you? You’re my wife. I promised to take care of you. I don’t like this at all.”

Marshall’s words rang hollow. Years of his training had hardened her resolve to not be fooled. Her hoarse laugh sounded strange, even to her. She tried to open her eyes to look at him. One eye, swollen from one of Marshall’s earlier sessions, refused to open. “You never loved me.”