Chapter 4 - The Transfer of Force
Eleanor’s right arm snapped up.
The movement was a blur of black fabric and diamond rings.
She didn't slap the maid.
She drove the heel of her hand directly into Maria’s sternum.
The impact was a dull, hollow thud.
All the air evacuated Maria’s lungs in a violent rush.
The young girl’s feet lifted half an inch off the ground.
She flew backward.
Her shoulder blades hit the mahogany wainscoting of the wall with a sickening crack.
She slumped to the floor, her blue uniform pooling around her knees.
The force of the shove had a secondary reaction.
As Eleanor extended her arm to strike the maid, her left hip slammed into the rubber wheel of Clara’s chair.
The locking mechanism on the right wheel had never been engaged.
The chair shifted.
The rubber tires bit into the slick surface of the marble floor.
Clara’s hands flew to her swollen stomach.
Her eyes widened, staring at the ceiling as the horizon shifted.
The wheelchair began to roll backward.
Slowly at first.
Just a creeping retreat down the long, empty corridor.
Eleanor stood perfectly still.
She lowered her hand.
She didn't reach out to grab the handles.
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She just watched the wheels turn.
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