Lock Me Up and Leave Me to Die

My husband, Jacob Morris, wrongly believed that I had pushed the woman he loved down the stairs. So, he locked me in the basement to make me reflect on my actions.

He hired people to punish me, trying to break my spirit. I suffered inhumane torture. My tendons were cut, and my face was disfigured.

Four years later, he finally remembered me and let me out.

But by then, I was too broken to love him anymore.

I stepped out of the basement barefoot. The bright sunlight was so harsh that I had to shut my eyes.

When I opened them again, I saw Jacob standing before me. He was dressed in an expensive suit, looking aloof and unapproachable.

My clothes were dirty and torn. I had been wearing them for months. Feeling anxious and scared, I called out softly, "M-Mr. Morris…"

He looked down at me and said coldly, "Lift your head."

I slowly looked up.

He was startled when he saw the scar on my face.

"What happened to your face?" he asked.

The bodyguard beside him avoided my eyes and quickly said, "Ms. Barnes accidentally cut herself."

Jacob turned to me and asked, "Is that true?"

I wrung my hands nervously, too frightened to speak.

They had wanted to carve a mark of submission into my face. I struggled and ended up with a jagged scar.

Jacob didn't ask anything else and turned to get in the car.

I couldn't walk as quickly as the others because my tendons were damaged.

He grew irritated.

"Why are you so slow? Do you want to go back to the basement?" he snapped.

I shook my head in fear. "No, please don't. Please don't send me back."

He smirked, clearly satisfied. "Looks like I made the right choice. You've finally learned your lesson."

I froze, holding back the bitterness deep inside, then got into the car.

As we drove, I glanced at him.

He still looked elegant and handsome, but I no longer recognized him.

We had grown up together. I had loved him since we were kids. Later, our families arranged our marriage.

I thought he liked me too—until his first love, Rachel Allen, came back. I realized he had only married me because of family pressure.

Even so, I didn't give up. I believed that one day, he would see how much I cared for him. But instead, he sent me into a nightmare, condemning me to eternal ruin.

Four years ago, Rachel returned and falsely claimed I pushed her down the stairs, which caused her injury.

Jacob was furious and locked me in the basement, saying I needed to reflect. He told the people there to make me obedient by any means, as long as I didn't die.

Suddenly, he wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

I looked down and saw that my arm was bleeding. Before I was released, they had warned me to stay quiet and hit me with a chair.

Noticing the blood dripping onto the car seat, I panicked. I bent down and wiped the seat with my sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Morris. I didn't mean to dirty your seat. I'll clean it up right away."

Seeing me desperately wipe the seat, he frowned. "Grace, how did you become like this?"

I forced a smile.

He was the one who had locked me in the basement and subjected me to cruel, inhumane treatment. I was forced to become obedient and submissive, stripped of all the illusions I once held about him. And then he questioned why I became like this.

Wasn't this exactly what he intended all along?

After cleaning the seat, I didn't sit back down. I curled up in a corner, afraid the smell of blood on me would make him uncomfortable.

Jacob looked at me with confusion. "Grace, you used to always cling to me. Why are you staying so far away now?"