Read Online A Shattered Wife by Diana Salyers - Free Book Online

fight back. A son of mine would fight for his life. You should be ashamed…"
    William’s free hand darted forward like a snake, snatching
the knife out of his father’s grasp and, in an instant, the tables were turned.
The knife made a sharp, snapping sound as he drove it forcefully into the floor
between Bill’s legs, uncomfortably close to his thigh. The grip on his wrist
loosened immediately and he flexed the fingers of his now free hand. Bill
stared in disbelief at the knife imprisoned in the floor; its carved handle
clasped tightly in his son’s hand.
    "Now, let’s see who is a coward. I’ve got the knife and
you have nothing to hide behind. Not your wheelchair or some big, powerful gun."
William’s voice shook with anger.
    Lightning zigzagged across the almost black sky, thunder
rolled and rain pelted furiously against the house. They were actors in a
horror movie during the climactic scene. William drew the knife from the floor
with ease, leaving an ugly scar in the linoleum. He jabbed it into the floor
again, a little higher, a little closer to Bill’s body.
    Bill exhaled, stunned.
    "Am I a coward now? Yes, because only a coward would
attack a crippled old man in a wheelchair!"
    William jerked the knife free from the floor, stood up and
hurled it across the room toward the sink. His voice was full of disgust. "And
only a coward shoots innocent animals just to watch them die."
    Bill felt the room swirling, going black. He gave in and
collapsed on the floor.
    It took both Martha and William to get the big man in his
chair and then wheel him to the bed. He seemed to be fighting their efforts,
even in his unconscious state. For several minutes, Martha was unable to decide
what to do. Her first impulse was to call Paul. What would she say? The words
were whirling around in her head like a windmill. She was almost sure he was
dying…or dead.
    She was standing by the bed, dialing the number on the phone
when Bill regained consciousness. "Don’t call that doctor. I’ll kill him
if he comes here."
    Martha obediently terminated the call.
    "Now, get out of here!" Bill shouted weakly.
    Even from his bed he was in charge again, and he got
results. Martha retreated to kitchen where William was standing, shaking with
rage or fear or both. Martha wept softly into her apron and William was almost
afraid to speak.
    "I’m sorry," she finally sobbed.
    "Sorry? Why are you sorry? What is happening to him?"
William asked in an incredulous whisper. They had had confrontations before,
but it had never gotten so violent.
    Martha shook her head and wiped her eyes with the bottom of
her starched white apron. "I guess he’s worse than we thought." Her
voice was also a whisper, barely heard above the storm outside.
    "Mom, he crazy," William blurted out. He hadn’t
wanted to say it aloud, and the last word hung between them, almost tangible in
the thick air.
    Martha shook her head and glanced nervously toward the
bedroom, then back at her son. "No!" she said at last with a flash of
defiance.
    "Yes, Mom. He’s crazy!"
    "No!" she said again, then turned away from him
and began angrily scrubbing at the dishes in the sink.
    He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at
him. "He’s losing his mind. Things are only going to get worse."
    "He needs me."
    "No. He’ll drive you mad, too, or…" William
released his mother’s face and both of them looked at the small blood-encrusted
wound on his wrist where the knife had pierced the skin.
    "Or what?" Martha looked away quickly.
    "Or he’ll kill you," William finished lamely. The
discussion was useless and he felt completely drained.
    The rain had stopped but the sky was still black as Martha
watched her son prepare to leave. "I fixed you some sandwiches to eat on
the way home," she said, offering him a small brown bag.
    "Come with me!" he whispered fiercely and then
wondered why they were whispering. Bill had not emerged from his room or made a
sound.
    "I can’t. I can’t leave