Playing dead... ?

He had gone. But still I lay there. I didn't move until I heard the truck screeching out of our driveway. His driveway. "Dinner at six". He said. I stood up, dizzy, sick. My cheek stinging, my thighs sticky. I felt dirty. Stumbling to the cracked sink, I washed the blood off my face. Purple flowers had begun swelling up on my arms. The delicate ribbons criss-crossing my arms in broken hieroglyphics. Moving was a bad idea, immediately I felt faint and leaned heavily against the wall. Today I wanted to leave him more than ever. But I couldn't leave. He didn't know about the affair, he didn't know I was pregnant and he didn't know I was using him. So instead of leaving him like my body and mind was screaming to do I started preparing dinner.