He pulled it tight. The sharp pain traveled along every nerve and settled somewhere deep in my chest.
A nurse wheeled in the blood-draw equipment, shock and hesitation plain on her face.
"Sir, this is..."
He cut her off instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Leave it. She's emotional—I restrained her so she wouldn't hurt herself. Draw the blood. The type's a match."
The nurse looked at the scene in front of her and couldn't stop herself from speaking up.
"But she only just had a miscarriage. Drawing blood now could do real damage to her body..."
Chester interrupted impatiently. "Enough. Glenda's situation is more urgent."
"My wife can be looked after properly later."
Those careless words—an ice-tipped blade, slipped between my ribs and driven straight into the softest place in my chest.
I stopped struggling. I let them push the needle into the back of my hand.
Warm blood flowed through the clear tubing into the collection bag.
Even that wasn't fast enough for him. He snapped at the nurse to switch to a thicker needle.
He stared at the filling bag, not bothering to hide how badly he needed every last drop.