Chapter 3

The hospital days blurred into a haze of pain, physical therapy, and crushing loneliness. Ethan and Brenda were ghosts, flitting in for brief moments, their conversations always revolving around Jessica.

"Jessica' s feeling a bit stronger today, she asked for her favorite smoothie."

"Jessica' s song is getting some buzz online, can you believe it?"

My song.

They never asked about my pain, my prognosis, the terrifying reality of life in a wheelchair. When I tried to talk about my leukemia, about the urgency, they' d change the subject or offer platitudes.

"You just need to stay positive, Sarah."

"Don't dwell on the negative, dear."

One afternoon, a nurse helped me into the wheelchair for the first time. The world looked different from this height, colder. I wheeled myself to the window, looking out at the city. Austin. A city of music, a city of dreams. My dreams.

Flashbacks, sharp and unwelcome, pierced through my despair. Ethan, years ago, his guitar case battered, his eyes full of fire and ambition. Me, working two jobs to pay our rent, scribbling lyrics on napkins during my breaks. Me, selling my own beloved vintage guitar to fund his first demo.

Then the lawsuit. A sleazy promoter claiming Ethan stole a song. It nearly broke him. I' d spent nights in the law library, my own music gathering dust, finding the precedent that got the case dismissed. I' d maxed out my credit cards to pay the legal fees, ruining my own credit for years. He' d kissed me then, tears in his eyes, swearing he' d never forget.

He forgot.

And Jessica. Always Jessica. I remembered the music scholarship I' d won, the one that was my ticket out of our small town. Jessica had feigned a mysterious illness then too, a debilitating fatigue. Brenda had insisted I stay home, help care for her. The scholarship went to someone else.

Then there was Mark, my college boyfriend, kind, steady Mark. We were talking marriage. Jessica, with her wide, innocent eyes, had confided in him how lonely she was, how much she admired him. He' d left me for her a month later. Their relationship lasted two weeks, just long enough to shatter my world.

Ethan had found me then, a wreck. He' d held me, let me cry. His proposal, a few months later, had felt like a lifeline. "I'll protect you, Sarah," he'd vowed. "No one will hurt you like that again." And for a while, I believed our love was real, forged in shared struggles, a shield against the world. He needed my support, my belief in him, and I poured everything I had into his career, his dreams becoming mine.

Now, staring at my reflection in the dark glass, a new, horrifying thought took root. Had his proposal been another rescue? Not from my despair over Mark, but to keep me close, to stop me from, what? Exposing Jessica back then? Had he already been under her spell, even then? Was his "love" for me just a way to manage a potential problem, to keep me from interfering with Jessica' s desires?

The thought was a cold shard in my chest. My entire relationship with Ethan, the foundation of my adult life, felt like a lie, a carefully constructed cage.

I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Just the rhythmic beep of Jessica' s heart monitor from the next room, a constant reminder of her power, her hold over everyone I loved.