Alana gripped her teacup, sitting around her gal pals at Book Club , her knuckles white. "It started at 6:00 AM," she began, her voice barely a whisper. The other three women leaned in, their breathing syncing.

​Arthur had entered the bedroom with his medical bag, the heavy thud of it on the nightstand acting as her alarm clock.

​"You look pale, Alana," Arthur said, his voice a low, commanding baritone. He didn't ask; he diagnosed.

​"I feel fine, Arthur, truly," Alana had pleaded, pulling the duvet to her chin. "Just a little tired."

​"Tiredness is the first sign of degrading health," he replied, already reaching for the velvet-lined case. He pulled out the glass syringe, its barrel thick and heavy. "You need a course of four B-complex and iron boosters. Immediately."

​"Please, no... not the glass ones with the big needles," Alana whimpered. "They’re so much worse. Can't I just take the pills?"

​Arthur stopped, looking at her over his spectacles with a cold, piercing authority. "Alana, do you doubt my professional judgment? Or are you simply being a difficult wife?"

​"No, Arthur," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

​"Then move. Now. Over on you stomach"

​At the book club, Rose let out a sharp gasp. Alana nodded tearfully. "I did as I was told. I watched him snap the glass necks of the ampules. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. He took his time, the clinking of the steel needle against the glass echoing in the quiet room. I was sobbing by the time he approached. He didn't offer an explanation; he just placed his heavy hand on my lower back, pinning me down."

​"Stay still," Arthur had commanded. "The more you cry, the more the muscle tenses. If you want this to be over, you will submit quietly."

​"I tried," Alana told the group, her face flushing at the memory. "But when that first thick needle went in... it was so deep, so cold. I screamed into the mattress. He didn't stop. He just moved to the next spot, his voice a calm, terrifying drone about 'compliance and health.' By the fourth shot, I couldn't even scream anymore—I was just shaking. He finished, wiped the spots with a sting of alcohol, and kissed my forehead. 'There. Now you’ll be a good, energetic wife today.'"

​"He’s so thorough," Hanna murmured, a look of envious dread on her face. "Four shots for a little paleness. He really does care about your health."