Chapter 7 - Rehearsed Victimhood
Eleanor’s posture shifted.
The rigid, commanding stance vanished in a fraction of a second.
Her shoulders slumped. Her lower lip began to tremble.
She let the sandal slip from her fingers.
It hit the floor with a pathetic, harmless slap.
She clutched her pearl necklace with one hand, pressing it against her chest. With the other, she pointed a shaking finger at Carol.
"She attacked me!"
Her voice was an octave higher now.
It wavered, fragile and laced with manufactured terror.
She took a small, unsteady step toward David, her eyes wide and pleading.
David looked at his mother. Then he looked at his wife.
Carol didn't lower her arms.
Her eyes narrowed. A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. It was a dry, hollow sound.
She didn't defend herself against the accusation.
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She just pointed behind her. Down at the floor.
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