Chapter 4

Weeks passed. Or maybe it was days. Time felt different now.

I watched them.

Mark, trying to maintain his composure, the grieving widower, the stoic captain.

Chloe, the ever-present comfort, her hand always on his arm, her eyes full of false sympathy.

But the story of my "escape" and "arson" didn't sit right with everyone.

Especially not Maria.

I saw her, poring over reports, interviewing the other patients who had survived.

She knew me. She knew I wouldn' t run. She knew I wouldn' t hurt anyone.

I remembered the physical therapy. The endless, grueling hours.

Chloe, always so sweet, so encouraging.

"You' re doing so well, Sarah! Mark will be so proud."

And I had started to regain some sensation. Tiny tingles in my toes. A flicker of muscle control.

I kept it secret. I wanted to surprise Mark.

To walk to him, on my own. A miracle.

My gift to him, for all his "care."

Chloe knew. Or she suspected.

"You seem tense today, Sarah," she' d said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Are you pushing yourself too hard? Remember, Mark worries if you overdo it. He feels so guilty."

Guilt. She used it like a weapon against him.

Then the "accident."

The new leg brace. Chloe was adjusting it.

"Just a little tighter, Sarah, for support."

A sudden, sharp pain. A sickening crunch.

I screamed.

Chloe looked horrified. "Oh my god, Sarah! I' m so sorry! Did it slip?"

The doctors said it was a severe setback. My progress, wiped out. Maybe permanent this time.

Chloe was the one who told Mark.

"Sarah' s devastated," she' d said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "She thinks she' ll never walk now. She' s... she' s not taking it well. She might be exaggerating the pain to get your attention, Mark. She knows how much you want her to recover."

He' d looked at me then, a new suspicion in his eyes.

"Are you really trying, Sarah?" he' d asked later, his voice devoid of warmth. "Or is this just another way to make me feel indebted?"

Chloe had been there, of course. She' d put her hand on his arm.

"Mark, don't upset her. She's fragile."

Fragile. I' d faced down armed robbers, disarmed bombs.

But this, this subtle poison, I hadn' t seen it coming.

Chloe then "found" my "discarded" heating pad near the faulty electrical outlet in the rehab wing' s common area after the fire. The one she claimed I was reckless with.

She told Mark I must have left it on, started the fire, then fled in a panic, ashamed.

He bought it. Every word.

He announced to the press that I was a person of interest in the arson investigation.

My own husband.

Calling me a fugitive.

Assassinating my character to save his own.