I married a man by the name of Ansel Fisher, who was five years older, had a promising career of taking over a multimillion dollar company, and could make the entire room go quiet, all due to his looks. You may wonder how I was the lucky one whereas I never wonder. Why? He was married to a woman who was quite bitter, was never around due to her love of spending his money, and was known to fool around with others, male and female. At the same time. I was his housekeeper and we became friends. We came to know everything there was to know about each other. I knew he enjoyed a cup of tea before eating breakfast, his meals always needed to have hot sauce and sandwiches needed at least two kinds of meat to be perfect. I knew that he felt vulnerable at the slightest touch of his childhood scar, right below his eye. He knew that I enjoyed walks at noon and eating lunch at 1:30. He knew that I never left the house without gum and I never let anyone see the embarrassing tattoo I got at fifteen, it’s a hotdog eating a hamburger. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIpyse9QWe7
But, I was the one to touch his scar with no flinch and he was the one to enjoy the comedy behind my tattoo. We found comfort in each other and felt a bond that had been molded by our past lives. While his wife was out, we would sit by the pool, sipping peach lemonade and discussing politics. It wasn’t until after a year, he told me he wanted to divorce his wife and begin a life with me, Coralie Fernsby. After that, it was bliss, as if we were back in our teen days with a love that could kill. All we talked about was married life, starting a family and how we would one day grow old together while spending our time enjoying what life brought to us. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlKjKUWIBOJ
Once the papers had been filed, Jillian T. Johnson-Fisher, lost her shit. She was born with a silver spoon up her ass and later lost it all once her family disowned her after TMZ caught her at an orgy, but once she married Ansel, she was back at her spending and unorthodox lifestyle. So, of course she would go crazy once she came home to see all her belongings boxed with an envelope filled with divorce papers. The conditions were that she was to drop his last name, she would keep the money earned by her within the past year and she was able to keep anything he had given to her throughout their ten year marriage. She cried, claiming to be pregnant with his child, which we would later find out be a very fabricated lie for six months.582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK4YkMexBpJ
Once the divorce was final, two years later, we married. It wasn’t extravagant. We had a quiet ceremony at a chapel on the coast of South Carolina and made our way down to Florida for a honeymoon that involved swimming in hot springs, gator farm tours, and laying on the sand with the sun on our smiling faces, but once night fall came, the crazy stuff happened. We wanted our life to begin once we married and that's what we did. I had always wished to be a mother. I dreamed about finding out and telling the love of my life that we were going to start a family. I saw myself going to baby stores and reading baby books. I imagined being able to see the perfect little bump forming and wearing cute clothes that accentuated the curve of motherhood. For months it was a constant thing of us waiting the few minutes to see faint pink lines, but after our one year anniversary, it happened. We were on a cruise to the Bahamas oblivious to it all. I puked my guts out almost every single day, took naps almost the entire time, and could not stand the sight of anything but hamburgers. Once on the island, it continued and we rushed straight to a store to find a test. There it was. Two, clear as day, pink lines. I don’t think we even remembered the trip entirely. We were drunk off of love and a new life coming into existence. Our trip lasted two weeks and once we returned home we did what every expectant couple does. We found a great doctor, found out we were almost eleven weeks, and began to plan for our little one. Ansel was beyond ecstatic. All he ever wanted to do was snuggle against my growing belly, to talk to the baby about how great things would be, but most of all, all he wanted was to give us both the life he knew we deserved. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVaW1vKP1Ow
I was twenty two weeks when I came home one day to the biggest bouquet of flowers, an adorable crib that was handcrafted by him, lunch from my favorite place down the road, and Ansel lying there on the ground, motionless. Our coffee table had been broken, the couch was punctured, the fireplace roaring, and there wasn't a soul in sight. At first, I thought it was a break in gone wrong, but that ended when I heard the clicking of heels coming down the marble stairs. Before I could hit the call button for the police, she was grabbed me by the head and throat. I tried to make my way out of the front door, but she began to drag me towards Ansel. I remember her saying to me, “This is what I get for hiring you. I knew there had to be a reason why I didn't like you and it was all due to the fact that you took what was mine. Ansel was mine. This house was mine. All of these gifts should be mine. That child should be mine. You took it all from me and now, I’m here to take it all back.” That's when she lunged with the fireplace poker at me and I blacked out. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6xAvvlSEu2
“And, Mrs. Fisher, when you finally came to, what happened?”582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmESLpx6r6Z
I woke up in a hospital bed with a cast on my left arm, a concussion from the fall I took, the news of my beloved husband in a medically induced coma, and our child no longer connected to me or this world. Jillian had broken into our home in an intoxicated rage looking to cause trouble because she filed for bankruptcy. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbNYYMLgBf9
“Thank you, Mrs. Fisher. Your Honor, I have no more questions.”
“Does the defense have any further questions?” asked the judge.
“No, Your Honor.” muttered Jillian's lawyer while barely standing up to reply.
The courtroom was silent as I stood up to only be helped back into my wheelchair. Jillian had pleaded not guilty, but after eight months of a grueling case, she took a deal her lawyers said was too good to pass up. Now, she’s sitting in a cell doing twenty years with a chance of parole. 582Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbnY30yBeXI
Ansel was still in the hospital for the trial against Jillian T. Johnson. Ansel was needing physical therapy from the wounds he received as well as I. We were both getting therapy for PTSD and the loss of our child, which we were told was a little boy. It had been almost two months that Ansel was finally able to walk on his own and came back home with me. Even though, I had been mostly at the hospital unwilling to be alone in that home, but that's when we finally laid our baby boy, Cainen Reeve Fisher, to sleep in his beautiful satin bed. We stood there arm and arm, looking out to the water when Ansel's voice cracked, “A life and a half stolen.”
“What do you mean, honey?”His crisp blue eyes laced with mixed emotions, looked down to meet my curious yet distraught ones, “His life was stolen from not only us, but himself. She took one life and a half. The half being a piece of us each, but luckily, that is what makes us whole.”
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