Didn’t save me. If anything, she just watched.
That almost hurts more than what he did.
Almost.
The part of me that used to braid her hair and cuddle on the couch withher, the one who danced in the kitchen, still thought she would come back to me someday, she’d say she was sorry, and we’d leave.
But she won’t, not after this. She’s already gone, just left her body behind.
Now I have to leave mine too. I stayed for her, but I won’t stay for this. The little girl inside me curls up and dies right here in this room.
3 GRACE
The air takes my breath. The swirling wind bites through my thin shirt. I slowly climb out of my window, being mindful of each ache in my body.
The rain hits my skin like shards of glass. The sky is wide open, water soaking through everything.
I need to get away. To find help. Anything to escape from this hellhole.
Fromhim.
I need to get to Maeve’s.
I stagger, my vision spins and tilts.
I stumble down the road, using the parked cars to keep from swaying. My body rocks like I’m on a boat in a storm, everything pitching. My surroundings blur into one long smear of light and noise.
My eyes pulse. Sounds are louder now. The hiss of tires on wet pavement. The echo of my own ragged breathing. My limbs feel heavy. My skin too tight.
Everything hurts.
Then —
Aflash of light.
A blaring horn.
Tires screeching.
Darkness.
Another bright light. I think my body is moving.
A mixture of faded voices around me. The voices multiply and overlap.
“She’s bleeding.”
“Possible abdominal trauma.”
I’m underwater, the words blur. The voices fading farther and farther.
There’s a soft light, it’s warm and inviting. I’m so tired.
“She’s crashing! Get a crash cart now!”
Then blissful nothingness.
The rhythmic beepingis strangely comforting. There’s a weight in my stomach, it’s not painful, just pressure. Like something heavy is resting there, stitched into me.
