He Chose Her Over Our Child’s Corpse - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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Spencer grabbed my arm, his voice desperate. "Linsey, I know you've always loved me. You can't just walk away..."
I cut him off coldly. "The divorce papers are signed. They're in the living room drawer. Find time to deal with it."
Without another word, I pushed past him, luggage in hand, and walked out.
I went straight to the place where Dora died and rented a small house nearby.
I couldn't bear the thought of her being alone there—scared, confused.
I needed to wait for her. To be close to her.
For thirty years, I lived for Spencer.
Now, he meant nothing. Only Dora mattered.
During the day, I wandered the stretch of road where she was hit, trying to piece together her last moments.
She must have been so happy that day, finally riding in her father's car. It was all she'd ever wanted—just to be with him.
What was she thinking in those final minutes? Maybe she was excited to tell him a story from school or share the snacks she'd saved from kindergarten.
Her little heart was probably bursting with joy, just trying to make him smile.
Then—the phone rang.
And just like that, he kicked her out of the car.
What went through her mind then? Did she freeze, clutching her little backpack, wondering what she'd done wrong?
She was always so obedient. Even when her world shattered, she got out quietly, watching as his car sped away.
She must have stood there, so small against the roaring traffic, her hope fading with every passing second.
Did she pray he'd come back?
But he didn't.
And then—the truck.
In that split second, did terror swallow her whole? Did she scream for us?
My baby. My Dora.
I wasn't there to shield her.
God, I'd give anything to take her place.
At night, I sat by the window, staring at the spot where she'd lain.
They say spirits wander after dark.
"Dora, can you see me?"
"Mommy misses you so much."
"Even if you just… haunt me. Just let me hear your voice again."
But the night stayed silent.
I cut him off coldly. "The divorce papers are signed. They're in the living room drawer. Find time to deal with it."
Without another word, I pushed past him, luggage in hand, and walked out.
I went straight to the place where Dora died and rented a small house nearby.
I couldn't bear the thought of her being alone there—scared, confused.
I needed to wait for her. To be close to her.
For thirty years, I lived for Spencer.
Now, he meant nothing. Only Dora mattered.
During the day, I wandered the stretch of road where she was hit, trying to piece together her last moments.
She must have been so happy that day, finally riding in her father's car. It was all she'd ever wanted—just to be with him.
What was she thinking in those final minutes? Maybe she was excited to tell him a story from school or share the snacks she'd saved from kindergarten.
Her little heart was probably bursting with joy, just trying to make him smile.
Then—the phone rang.
And just like that, he kicked her out of the car.
What went through her mind then? Did she freeze, clutching her little backpack, wondering what she'd done wrong?
She was always so obedient. Even when her world shattered, she got out quietly, watching as his car sped away.
She must have stood there, so small against the roaring traffic, her hope fading with every passing second.
Did she pray he'd come back?
But he didn't.
And then—the truck.
In that split second, did terror swallow her whole? Did she scream for us?
My baby. My Dora.
I wasn't there to shield her.
God, I'd give anything to take her place.
At night, I sat by the window, staring at the spot where she'd lain.
They say spirits wander after dark.
"Dora, can you see me?"
"Mommy misses you so much."
"Even if you just… haunt me. Just let me hear your voice again."
But the night stayed silent.
End of He Chose Her Over Our Child’s Corpse Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to He Chose Her Over Our Child’s Corpse book page.