Chapter 7

Holly Stevenson's POV:

My body, already weak from blood loss and pain, felt heavy and unresponsive. I was laid bare on the cold table, a specimen under her cruel gaze.

"Janna, please," I tried to say, but the words were a desperate, garbled mess behind the gag. He's my fiancé. Joel was my brother. The silent scream echoed in the prison of my skull.

The scalpel descended, and a new, deeper agony erupted in my lower body. This was a pain that went beyond the surface, a violation that reached into the very core of my being, into my future. I screamed, a raw, animal sound of pure torment, but it was swallowed by the thick gauze. I could no longer form thoughts, only feel the searing, tearing pain as she carved away my ability to ever carry a child.

"There," she said, her voice laced with triumphant finality. "Now there will be no more little accidents. Graham's legacy will come from me. Only me."

She laughed, a loud, booming sound of victory that filled the small room.

Then, a sharp, insistent knocking echoed from the door.

"Hello? Is anyone in there? This is Dr. Evans. I was told this room was free."

Janna froze, her wild laughter cut short. The man at the door sounded urgent.

Suddenly, another voice joined his, closer, more frantic. It was Graham.

"She's not answering," he said, his voice tight with panic. "Holly's not answering her phone. She was with her brother at the park. There was an emergency call from there. I need to get in this room now!"

The door handle rattled violently, followed by a heavy thud as a shoulder slammed against it. Then another.

With a splintering crack, the door burst open.

Graham stood there, his face pale, his eyes wide with a confusion that quickly morphed into shock. He saw Janna, splattered in blood, a scalpel in her hand. He saw the operating table.

But he didn't see me. Not really. My face was a mangled, bloody mess. My body was covered in gashes. I was unrecognizable.

"Janna?" he breathed, his voice a disbelieving whisper. "What in God's name is going on here?" He took a step into the room, his eyes scanning the horrific scene. "I thought you were a paramedic, not a surgeon."

Janna, snapping out of her momentary shock, dropped the scalpel. It clattered loudly on the tiled floor. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck, seeking praise for her horrific work.

"Graham, baby!" she cried, her voice trembling with manufactured fear. "Thank God you're here! This... this woman, she's crazy! She attacked me!"

She clung to him, pressing her face into his chest. "You have to help me, Graham. You have to believe me. She's obsessed with you. She was saying the most awful things, that she was going to have your baby and ruin our lives."

Graham stood rigid in her embrace, his expression unreadable.

"Please, honey," Janna whimpered, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Don't be mad at me. I was just trying to protect you. To protect us." She paused, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We can just... get rid of her. No one has to know. I'll say she died on the table. It happens all the time."

His face remained a cold, hard mask. I knew that look. It was the face he wore in the courtroom, the one that meant he was dissecting every word, every lie.

He finally spoke, his voice dangerously quiet. "Janna, we broke up seven years ago. There is no 'us'."

"Don't say that!" she shrieked, her facade cracking. "You love me! You've just been confused! This... this slut confused you!"

He looked past her, at me, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of professional concern and pity for the anonymous victim on the table. He still had no idea.

"I don't know who this woman is," he said, his voice firm, "but she is a patient, and she is bleeding out. Now get out of my way."

He gently but firmly pushed Janna aside and walked towards me.