Insane - Who Are You To Judge? (Gripping Psychological Thriller)

Chapter 42 - Harry

"I'm bored, Harry," Martha's soft voice calls from the kitchen as Harry pushes the front door shut. She seems calm – too calm.

Harry turns round the corner and finds Martha sitting at the breakfast bar with a wine glass filled to the brim with red and a bottle placed beside it – empty. She has a dangerous flare in her eye, Harry hasn't seen her like this in a long time.

"I'm bored," she reiterates. "I'm bored of waiting here like an idiot for my sweet, devoted husband to come home. From his whore."

"Martha, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't!" Martha slams her hand down onto the counter and the sea of wine floods over the top of the glass and bleeds onto her hand. She very calmly lifts her fingers to her lips and licks the droplets off her cracked skin. "Don't patronise me, Harry. I am not some stupid little twit. I am not oblivious to your indiscretions. I have turned a blind eye because I know that the news we cannot conceive was a hard blow for the both of us and I am not an inconsiderate woman. I understand you have needs and I was not willing to meet those needs." She takes in a shaky breath, smoking with rage. "But it is enough now."

"Martha, you're being ridiculous. You're letting your imagination run wild, just calm down, go to bed and we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she screams as she hurls the empty wine bottle into the cream wall. Harry's skin jumps as the crimson fluid splatters and bleeds down towards Harry's feet. He has to shake the memory from his eyes.

Martha marches towards him, her eyes wide and burning with a new kind of fire that he hasn't seen before, and it forms goose bumps underneath Harry's jacket. "All I wanted was to be there for you. I've known you since it happened and all I wanted was to be there! But what did you do? You shut me out. And I can appreciate that when you were nine years old, but for Christ's sake it's been fifteen years, Harry. And we're married! I don't think I am asking too much for my husband to actually talk to me honestly for once. You have been chasing them for over a decade and it is time for it to stop. Do you hear me? It needs to stop."

"No it doesn't," Harry throws back at her. He has remained composed up until now but she has pushed him too far. "They were my parents and they are gone. I have every goddamn right to chase the son of a bitch who did it until my last breath and I will not let you tell me otherwise. I never asked you to care, I never asked you to comfort me—"

"Oh so this is my fault because I wanted to be there for my husband?" Martha cuts him off. Their faces are so close that Harry can feel her spit as it hits his cheeks with every word. "For fuck sake, Harry, you can't blame your screwed up head on everyone else. This is about you. Why the hell do I deserve a husband who cheats on me, simply because he doesn't have the balls to deal with his real issues?"

"For the last time I'm not having an affair!"

Without any warning Martha's palm hits Harry's cheek and pain bursts through his jaw. Shocked by her sudden aggression, Harry stumbles backwards and cringes as the broken glass catch his heel. Once the stars have cleared from his vision, he now sees the smoke coming from Martha's ears. "Don't you dare stand there and lie to me. I will not have it. I'm not going to leave you, Harry, because let's be honest there is no woman out there who would come within a hundred metres of you if she knew all the shit that's going on up there." She gestures to his head. "But I deserve to hear the truth from you. I want you to admit it – right now. I swear to God I don't want to hear another word from your mouth that isn't the truth."

"Fine!" Harry roars. "You want me to say it? Fine, I'll say it. I had an affair. I had an affair when we found out that I couldn't give you a baby because I felt like it was my fault. I felt like everything in my pathetic excuse for an existence was my fault. I thought what happened to them was my fault. And I couldn't bear coming to you about it because I didn't want you to see me as a broken toy. And then do you know what I realised? I realised that I am not like this by choice – this was done to me. It isn't my fault, it's theirs. So yes I had an affair but I am not having a flippin' one now! It ended months ago, my God, woman, what else do you want me to say?"

Martha's stance is now less aggressive. She wasn't expecting Harry to say any of that – she thought he would merely spin her another lie, as he always has. She's unsure of how to respond. Wounded by the truth and yet freed by it. After a few painful seconds of silence, Martha calmly asks, "So where were you tonight then?"

"I was out having a beer with James. What, do you want me to have a tracker implanted into my fucking shoulder? Call him up if you want, I don't give a shit. I am done explaining myself to you, Martha." Harry lets out a groan of frustration and then spins round and storms off in the opposite direction, paying no attention to the micro shards and wine droplets he is now treading across the hallway.

"Hey," Martha calls after him in a softer voice than she had been speaking with since he returned home.

"What?" He sighs as he glances back at her.

The corners of her lips curl and she bows her head. "Thank you."