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Paul continued, ?Melissa, the success I have had is due to both recognizing opportunity and seeing things as they truly are. I love you but I can no longer have your immaturity in my life.? Paul walked to the wet bar to made a drink. ?If I must leave you behind, now is the time to do it.? Paul took a long drink and watch his tough words strike his very young wife. ?I will see a lawyer tomorrow and have a settlement drawn up. It will be fair, you may have the house and I will pay you a good monthly sum. You can have a lawyer look at it before I leave for New York City thirty three days from now.? Melissa stared at her husband in horror. Tears began to creep down her cheeks. She understood Paul well and was and she knew he was being very serious. She had been married to him for four years and had seen his cool emotional detachment before, but she had never been on the wrong end of it. Melissa Stanford was facing down a man she knew well; and she was scared. Paul Stanford had given. Sometimes it's barely audible unless I listen veryhard, in a quiet room, but it never stops. Let me out, let me out, let meout.I finger the handle of my knife as I slice the crusts off her littlesandwich (PB&J, her favorite!) before I bring it down. She hates crusts. Ithink about just getting it over with and slitting my jugular, right now.I could do it. She would die, of course, without me to feed her - thenourishment of food, yes, but also hope. Every time I descend the steps,she thinks, maybe I will let her go now. Maybe this is the time I fumblemy key, or she can pickpocket my phone. It's not, though. I'm too carefulfor that. I will put the plate inside the arc of her chain where she canreach it, and leave, the light from the top of the stairs narrowing untilit disappears.I hope, really, more than anything, I can let her out someday. That I canfind a soft, kind place where I can let her be and she can finally growup. She's been down there, a little girl, for years and years and.
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