Chapter 4

Ferne Booth POV:

Kenisha didn't wait for my answer. With a vicious shove, she sent me stumbling onto the first plank of the bridge. I cried out, my arms flailing as I fought for balance on the swaying, unstable surface. My injured hands, the ones that once danced over ivory keys, scraped against the rough, splintered rope, sending jolts of agony up my arms.

The canyon floor seemed miles below, a rocky, unforgiving landscape. Vertigo seized me, a dizzying sickness that made my legs tremble and my breath catch in my throat. I clung to the ropes, my knuckles white, every muscle in my body screaming in terror.

From the safety of the cliff edge, Daryl and Kenisha watched me, their faces impassive. They were spectators at a show of their own making. My panic, my pain, was their entertainment.

"This is so much fun!" Kenisha giggled, clapping her hands like a child. She turned to Daryl. "Let's make it more exciting. Let's shake the bridge!"

"Kenisha, no!" I screamed, but it was too late.

A sick feeling of dread washed over me as Daryl' s lips curved into a cruel smile. "Whatever makes you happy, my love."

Together, they began to jump on the edge of the bridge, sending violent, stomach-lurching waves through the structure. I was thrown from side to side, my grip on the ropes slipping. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it to stop. These were the two people who were supposed to love me most in the world-my sister and my fiancé-and they were trying to kill me.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. I heard the muffled sound of Daryl' s phone ringing. "I have to take this," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Don't go anywhere."

He walked away, leaving me stranded in the middle of the bridge with Kenisha. She crept onto the bridge, her movements cat-like and predatory.

"Let's play a game, Ferne," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity. "It's called 'Who Does He Save?'"

Before I could react, she pulled a small, wicked-looking knife from her pocket.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"Making the game more interesting," she said with a chilling smile. With a swift, deliberate motion, she began to saw at the rope supporting the planks right next to her. The fibers groaned and snapped.

"Kenisha, stop! We'll both fall!" I cried, trying to scramble back towards the cliff, but the bridge was too unstable.

"Help!" Kenisha shrieked suddenly, her voice a perfect imitation of terror. "Daryl, help! Ferne is trying to cut the ropes! She's trying to kill me!"

Daryl came running back, his face a mask of fury. He saw the severed rope, Kenisha's feigned panic, and me, frozen in terror. He didn't hesitate. He didn't ask a single question.

"Kenisha!" he yelled, lunging onto the bridge.

"Save me, Daryl, but don't worry about me!" Kenisha sobbed, a masterful performance of self-sacrifice. "Save yourself! Just leave me!"

Of course, that only made him more determined. He scooped her up into his arms, his movements sure and strong, and carried her back to the safety of the cliff edge. He deposited her gently on the ground and turned back to me, his expression hardening.

"Don't move," he commanded. "I'll be right back for you."

But as Kenisha collapsed into a fit of dramatic, wracking coughs, he was instantly distracted. "My love, are you okay? Your heart..."

He scooped her up again, his face etched with worry. "I'm taking you to the car. I'll get you to a hospital." He looked back at me, his promise already forgotten, his eyes cold and distant. "Just wait there."

He carried her away, his footsteps fading until there was only the sound of the wind whistling through the canyon and the creaking of the damaged bridge beneath me.

He wasn't coming back.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. He was leaving me here to die.

A primal survival instinct kicked in. I began to inch my way back, my body screaming in protest, my hands bleeding and raw. It was a slow, agonizing journey, but I finally felt the solid ground of the cliff edge beneath my feet. I collapsed, gasping for air, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief.

My first thought was my aunt. I pulled out my phone, my fingers fumbling with the screen. It rang once before she picked up, her voice a torrent of rage.

"Ferne Booth, you have some nerve calling me! How could you be so cruel, so heartless?"

"Auntie, what are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Don't play innocent with me! Kenisha is in the hospital! She had a heart episode because of you! You tried to kill your own sister! I hope you rot, you ungrateful monster!"

The line went dead.

They had already spun their story. Daryl, the hero. Kenisha, the victim. And me, the villain. I was alone, miles from civilization, abandoned and framed for a crime I didn't commit. A slow, bitter smile spread across my face. Fine. If they wanted a villain, they would get one.

I started walking. The sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a beautiful backdrop to my ugly reality. I had a long way to go.