Chapter 3

A nurse's aide burst into the room. "Ms. Clark? Your son is having a severe panic attack down the hall."

Son? Caleb?

Sabrina and Jennifer were on their feet instantly. "We're coming," Sabrina said, her voice filled with genuine maternal panic.

They were gone. Just like that. They left me bleeding under my bandages, my world completely shattered. The silence in the room was absolute. I was alone.

Hours passed. The clinic was quiet. The drugs were wearing off, replaced by a throbbing, all-consuming agony in both my hands and my soul. Just as I felt myself slipping into a black pit of despair, I heard a faint scratching at the door.

The door creaked open. A furry head poked through the gap. It was Howler.

I had found him a year ago, a half-dead stray I rescued from a dogfighting ring. He was my shadow, my loyal companion. Just last week, thinking I couldn't care for him properly after the wedding, I'd done the hardest thing I'd ever done. I'd released him back into the swamps, hoping he'd find his own way.

But he had come back for me.

He padded silently to my bedside, a small flask of water clamped gently in his jaws. He nudged it against my lips. I managed to take a few sips, the cool liquid a small miracle on my parched throat. He then began to lick my wounds, his rough tongue a strange comfort against the burning pain. He was all I had left.

He whined softly, then nudged my phone, which lay on the bedside table. It lit up with notifications. A local news alert.

My blood ran cold as I read the headline: "Local Musician Ethan Lester Exposed as Gang Affiliate After Staged Attack."

The article was filled with quotes from "anonymous sources." It painted me as a violent traitor who had arranged the attack to frame a rival band, a deal gone wrong. And then, the final blow. A social media post from Jennifer Anderson.

It was a picture of her and Caleb, their arms around each other. The caption read: "In the wake of a terrible betrayal, we found solace in each other. So happy to announce our engagement. We're moving forward, together and stronger."

The engagement party was in three days.

Howler let out another low growl, a sound of deep distress. It was as if he was trying to tell me more. The article mentioned that due to my "clear mental instability and violent tendencies," authorities were being petitioned to have me committed. To the state psychiatric hospital. A place people went in and never came out of, a place known for abuse and neglect. They weren't just destroying my life; they were erasing me.