Chapter 2

The world returned to me in fragments of sound and light.

A dull, throbbing bass vibrated through the mattress I was lying on. Muffled voices, a ripple of applause. The air smelled of perfume and hairspray.

I was on display.

Someone adjusted the sleeve of the garment I was wearing. The fabric was stiff, abrasive against my skin. It had a chemical smell that made me want to gag.

"The centerpiece of the collection," a voice announced over a loudspeaker. "A testament to ten years of innovation."

Ten years.

The number echoed in the silent chamber of my mind. Ten years since the screech of tires, the shatter of glass, and then... nothing.

"The fabric reacts to body temperature, creating a unique, living pattern. A true fusion of science and art, made possible by our founder, Emily Miller!"

Emily. My sister.

Her voice, saccharine and triumphant, cut through the noise. "Thank you, thank you! I couldn't have done it without the support of my loving fiancé, David Chen."

David.

His name was a phantom pain, a wound that never closed.

The crowd erupted in cheers. I felt the platform I was on begin to move, gliding forward into a glare of bright, hot lights. I couldn't close my eyes. They were held open by some medical tape, I think. All I could do was stare blankly into the blinding whiteness.

I was a prop. My comatose body was her greatest creation.

Through the haze of light, I could see them. Emily, radiant in a gown of her own design, holding hands with David. He looked at her with an adoration that he once reserved for me. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

The audience swooned.

It was a perfectly crafted scene of love and success.

I felt a draft on my legs and realized the dress they'd put on me was cut scandalously high. My skin was exposed. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, on the faint, silvery scars that crisscrossed my thighs from her earlier "fabric dye" experiments. The ones that had gone wrong.

"They say she uses her sister as a test subject," a woman whispered somewhere in the audience, close enough for me to hear. "The one who's been in a coma for years."

"That's just a rumor," her friend replied. "But look at her skin. It's... strange. Almost translucent."

"I heard the new cosmetic injections Emily developed are what keep her looking preserved. They say it can halt the aging process, but the side effects..."

The voices faded.

The platform stopped at the center of the runway. Emily and David walked towards me. He didn't even look at me, his eyes were only for my sister.

He dropped to one knee.

The crowd gasped.

"Emily Miller," David's voice boomed, amplified by the microphone. "You are my inspiration, my partner, my true love. I thought I knew what love was, but you've shown me a passion I never dreamed of. Will you marry me?"

The world tilted. The black ocean inside my head churned into a violent storm. A scream built in my throat, but it had nowhere to go. It was a silent, frantic shriek that bounced off the walls of my skull.

My body betrayed me. A violent tremor ran through me, a seizure born of pure, impotent rage. My fingers twitched. My jaw clenched.

Emily's smile tightened for a fraction of a second. She shot a panicked look at a man in a white coat standing in the wings.

"She's reacting," the man hissed, rushing forward.

"It's overwhelming, of course," Emily said smoothly into the microphone, never breaking character. "She can feel our joy."

She leaned down, her face close to mine. Her perfume was cloying. "Don't you ruin this for me, Sarah," she whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. "Don't you dare."

The man in the white coat reached my side. I felt the sharp prick of a needle in my arm.

A cold, heavy liquid flooded my veins.

The lights, the sounds, the faces of my two betrayers-it all dissolved back into the familiar, suffocating darkness.