Chapter 7

They dragged me to the hospital rooftop. The wind was fierce, whipping my thin hospital gown around my legs.

Caleb was already there, pacing like a caged animal.

"I'm going to give you a taste of what Hailie felt," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "A taste of that fear as you fall."

He didn't just push me. That would have been too quick, too merciful.

He had his men hold me over the edge of the roof. Then he took out a small, dull knife. He didn't cut the rope binding my hands. He began to saw at it, slowly, deliberately. The rasp of the blade against the fibers was a countdown to my death.

I looked down. On the pavement below, I could still see the dark, wet stain where Hailie had landed.

The rope snapped.

I fell.

The impact was a white-hot explosion of pain. My body felt like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces. I tasted blood.

My last conscious thought was of Caleb, turning his back and walking away without a second glance.

I woke up again in a hospital bed. It was becoming a familiar routine. Every bone ached. Every breath was a struggle.

Hailie was there, a group of her sycophantic friends flanking her like a royal court.

"Look who's awake," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Still alive? You're tougher than you look."

She leaned in. "But this is just the beginning. I'm going to enjoy breaking you, piece by piece."

Suddenly, she slapped herself, hard, across the face. Her friends gasped. She tore at the collar of her dress, ripping the fabric, and let out a piercing scream.

"Help! Someone help me! She's attacking me!"

Caleb burst into the room, his face a thundercloud. He saw Hailie's fake tears, her torn dress, my silent, bandaged form. He didn't need any more evidence.

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw. "You just can't stop, can you? You have to make everything about you."

I just stared at him, too weak to even shake my head.

"Fine," he snarled. "If you want to be a victim so badly..." He turned to his men. "Bring them in."

Two large, rough-looking men entered the room. A chill of pure terror went down my spine.

"Lock the door," Caleb ordered. "Stay in here with her. Teach her some manners."

He turned to leave. As he passed Hailie, she looked up at him with feigned concern. "Caleb, isn't this too much?"

"She brought this on herself," he said coldly, and walked out.

The room fell silent. The two men advanced on me, ugly leers on their faces.

I tried to scream, to fight, but I was pinned to the bed. One of them clamped a hand over my mouth.

As the world began to close in, a violent, wracking cough tore through me. I convulsed, and a spray of blood erupted from my mouth, splattering across the man's hand and the white hospital sheets.

He recoiled in horror. "What the hell?"

The other man stared at the blood, his eyes wide with panic.

The heart monitor beside my bed began to shriek, a high-pitched, insistent alarm.

The door burst open and Dr. Evans rushed in with a team of nurses.

"Get out!" he yelled at the two men, who scrambled away. "Code Blue! She's crashing!"

A nurse tried to call Caleb. I heard her on the phone. "Sir, it's an emergency. Her cancer... she's... Sir, he says he doesn't believe me."

The voices faded. The frantic beeping of the monitor grew distant.

A strange calm washed over me.

So this is it. This is the end.

I closed my eyes, ready for the darkness.