Chapter 6

I woke to a world of pain. Every inch of my body throbbed. I was back in a hospital bed, a prisoner in my own broken body.

The phone on my bedside table buzzed. I reached for it with a trembling hand. It was a call from the prison.

"Is this Ms. Elyse Maynard?" a gruff voice asked.

"Yes," I rasped.

"I'm calling about your mother. It seems she's been getting some... special attention here. Someone paid a few inmates to make her life difficult."

My breath hitched. My head spun.

"She hasn't eaten in two days," the guard continued, his voice void of sympathy. "Got a broken rib from a 'fall' in the yard. Just thought you should know."

The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the floor.

The door to my room opened, and Drake walked in. He looked tired, but his face held no surprise, no confusion.

He knew.

He was the "someone" who had paid those inmates.

I slowly lifted my head, the movement sending waves of agony through my neck and back. "How could you?" I whispered, my voice a broken thing. "After everything my mother did for your family... after my father..."

He walked to my bedside, his expression hardening. He leaned down and grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks.

"This is what happens when you hurt innocent people," he snarled, his eyes cold as ice. "Kalea is a good person. She wouldn't have been on that roof if you hadn't threatened her."

His grip was crushing. I stared into his eyes, the eyes I had once loved, and saw nothing but a stranger.

"I... didn't... threaten her," I choked out.

"Stop lying," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

A tear of pure, undiluted agony slid from my eye and landed on his hand. He flinched as if burned.

"Please," I begged, my will finally breaking. "Don't hurt her. Please, Drake. I'll do anything. Just leave my mother alone."

He loosened his grip, his expression shifting slightly. "I don't want to hurt your mother, Elyse," he said, his voice softening into that familiar, deceitful caress. "Just promise me you'll leave Kalea alone. She's been through enough."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I felt nothing but revulsion.

"I promise," I nodded, a puppet on his strings.

The next day, the prison called again.

My mother was dead.

She had died in the night from internal bleeding caused by her "fall."

I rushed to the morgue, a haze of disbelief and horror clouding my vision. I saw her lying on a cold metal slab, her face pale and still.

I collapsed to the floor, my hands shaking too much to even touch her.

"Mom," I sobbed, the sound raw and animalistic. "Mom, I'm sorry."

I arranged for her cremation that same day. I held a small, private funeral. I was the only one there.

I called Drake. It went straight to voicemail. I called again and again. No answer.

Later that night, I saw a post on Kalea's social media. It was a video. She was at a loud, crowded concert, laughing and dancing. The camera panned, and for a second, I saw Drake standing beside her, a smile on his face.

I remembered all the times I had asked him to go to a concert with me, and he had always refused, saying he hated loud places.

Another lie.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I stopped calling.

I went to a jewelry store and bought a simple silver locket. I placed my mother's ashes inside.

I held the locket to my chest. "I'll take you away, Mom," I whispered. "I promise."