Chapter 5

The days that followed blurred into a monotonous cycle of pain and degradation. Every morning, the doctor would come, his face a mask of professional detachment, and extract a sample of my marrow. Every day, I was left weaker, paler, more of a ghost.

One afternoon, a week after the party, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I heard a commotion outside. I dragged my broken body to the window.

Down on the lawn, Ethan was teaching Leo how to ride a new, miniature ATV. Geneva was cheering them on, her laughter bright and carefree. They looked like the perfect, happy family.

A storm was brewing, the sky turning a bruised purple-grey. The wind picked up, whipping through the trees.

Ethan finally seemed to notice the weather. He said something to Geneva, and they started heading back to the house, leaving me alone in the large, empty room.

But they didn't come for me.

The storm broke with a vengeance. Rain lashed against the windows, and the wind howled like a hungry wolf. I shivered, a deep, bone-chilling cold seeping into me.

They had left me out here. In the storm. To die.

A desperate, primal urge for survival kicked in. I had to get back. I had to live.

I started to run, or rather, a lurching, stumbling hobble. My injured leg screamed with every movement, but I ignored it. The rain soaked me to the skin, plastering my thin hospital gown to my body. The cuts on my body, still fresh, burned as the dirty rainwater seeped into them.

Blood mixed with the rain, running down my legs in pinkish rivers. I stumbled and fell, again and again, my body a mass of trembling agony. But I kept going, crawling when I couldn't walk, fueled by a desperate, burning rage.

It took me all night. All night to cross the vast expanse of the estate grounds, a distance I could have walked in ten minutes before.

As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in shades of grey and pink, I finally reached the house. I collapsed against the back door, my body spent, my energy gone.

Through the glass, I could see them. Ethan and Geneva, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Ethan was explaining something on a laptop to her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. They looked so domestic. So normal.

He was saying, "-and that's why I left her out there. The storm, the cold... a weak body like hers wouldn't stand a chance. By the time anyone finds her, it will just look like a tragic accident. No more loose ends."

My hand, slick with mud and blood, balled into a fist. The rage was a fire in my belly, the only thing keeping me warm.

I pushed the door open and stumbled inside.

They looked up, their faces a comical picture of shock and disbelief.

I must have been a horrifying sight. A wraith-like figure, covered in mud and blood, my eyes burning with a cold, dead light.

I didn't say a word. I just turned and started the slow, agonizing journey up the stairs to my room. I had to get my things. My real passport, the one I kept hidden. The emergency cash. I was leaving. For good this time.

I packed a small bag, leaving behind everything Ethan had ever given me. The clothes, the jewelry, the life he had built for me-it was all tainted, all part of the lie. I wanted none of it.

As I was about to leave, Leo burst into the room.

He saw the bag in my hand. "Are you leaving?" he asked, a flicker of something-was it panic?-in his eyes.

I ignored him, pushing past him towards the door.

He suddenly became frantic, his small face contorting with anger. He ran to my dresser and snatched a small, velvet-wrapped object. It was a porcelain music box, the last gift my mother gave me before she died.

"If you leave, I'll smash it!" he shrieked, his voice filled with a childish, terrifying rage.

"Don't you dare," I whispered, my voice trembling.

I lunged for it, but my body was too weak, too slow. He dodged me easily, a cruel smirk on his face.

"Please, Leo," I begged, the fight going out of me. "Give it back. It's all I have of her."

He just laughed. "Beg me."

He ran out of the room, and I followed, my heart pounding in my chest. He led me on a torturous chase down the long hallway, my broken leg screaming with every step.

He stopped at the top of the grand staircase, turning to look at me, his eyes dancing with malicious glee.

"You're too slow, old woman," he taunted.

And then, with a deliberate, theatrical gesture, he threw the music box over the banister.

It shattered on the marble floor below, the delicate porcelain exploding into a thousand tiny pieces. The tinkling melody died with a sickening crunch.

"No!" The cry was torn from my soul.

As I stared in horror at the wreckage of my last connection to my mother, Leo did one last, monstrous thing.

He pushed me.

With all his might, he shoved me in the back.

I was already off-balance, my body weak and exhausted. The push was all it took.

I tumbled forward, my arms flailing, a scream catching in my throat.

The world turned into a dizzying blur of motion and pain as I fell down the long, winding staircase.

My body hit the hard marble steps again and again, each impact a fresh explosion of agony. I felt bones snap, heard a sickening crunch as my head hit the newel post at the bottom.

Blood filled my mouth, warm and metallic.

I lay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, a broken, bleeding mess. I tried to crawl towards the shattered remains of my music box, my fingers leaving a bloody trail on the pristine white marble.

Leo stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at me, his face impassive. "You shouldn't have tried to leave," he said, his voice cold and flat. "Daddy doesn't like it when his things run away."

The pain was overwhelming, a black tide pulling me under. I couldn't even manage a whimper, my throat was crushed.

Just before I lost consciousness, I saw Ethan and Geneva appear at the top of the stairs.

Ethan had been on the phone, a look of concern on his face. I heard him say, "Yes, an ambulance, right away."

But then Geneva whispered something to Leo. And Leo, his face lighting up with a new, cruel idea, turned to Ethan.

"Daddy, she was trying to run away from us!" he announced. "She said she hates us and never wants to see us again!"

Ethan's face changed. The concern vanished, replaced by an icy rage. He slowly lowered the phone, his thumb pressing the 'end call' button.

His eyes, cold and hard as chips of ice, met mine.

"You want to leave?" he mouthed, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across his face. "I'll make sure you never leave me again."

He turned and gave an order to his security team. "Lock her in the basement. No doctors. No visitors. No one."