Darkness.
Pain. Sudden and stabbing. Then nothing.
A flash of fluorescent light, bright, sterile, and pulsing. Voices, distorted like static, sliding through the fog.
“Get her vitals stabilized, now!”
Blurred figures looming, shadows moving in frenetic urgency. Faces hidden behind masks, familiar eyes rendered alien beneath surgical lights.
Roz’s voice, tight with forced steadiness: “Prep the OR immediately.”
Catherine, caught between shadow and consciousness, floated in endless darkness.
Catherine drifted, caught in a dreamlike state. Sounds swirled distantly—steady beeping, murmured conversations, footsteps echoing. She felt detached, weightless.
Echoes drifted around her, fragmented and distant: Evelyn’s cold disapproval, Olivia’s pleading eyes, Roz’s protective voice.And beneath it all, Sloane’s warmth, her laughter, her gentle whisper, pleadingcome back.
In Catherine’s dark, unconscious silence, a single thought crystallized clearly, resonating through the emptiness:I don’t want to fight alone anymore.
The darkness shifted slightly, the first stirrings of consciousness struggling to surface, painful but persistent.
Catherine floated in silence, her mind reaching out toward warmth, toward light. Her body felt distant and broken, but within the shadows, something else remained: hope, fragile yet stubbornly resilient.
She clung to that sliver of warmth, determined to follow it back toward life, toward healing, toward the woman who had loved her enough to break her open.
18
SLOANE
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Sloane’s studio, catching on suspended dust particles drifting above paint-stained canvases and scattered brushes. Music played quietly, a playlist she’d listened to hundreds of times, familiar notes blending into the background as she sat cross-legged on the floor. Her fingers moved across a canvas stretched before her, spreading thick strokes of vibrant color, blues swirling into deep, passionate reds.
She lost herself in the rhythm, the gentle brushstrokes soothing her turbulent mind. Painting had always been her escape, her way of untangling emotions she couldn't voice. Today, though, every stroke felt restless and incomplete. Catherine haunted her thoughts, an unending loop of their last, painful interaction replaying in her mind.
Sloane sighed, setting her brush down heavily. She pushed her hair back from her face, smudging paint across her cheek without noticing. The silence that followed was deafening, the absence of Catherine’s voice, laughter, and even her sharp words felt physically.
Before she could sink deeper into her thoughts, the studio door burst open abruptly. Dani stood there, eyes wide, breath ragged, hair windswept as though she’d run the entire way.
“Sloane,” Dani’s voice cracked urgently, startling Sloane upright. “Have you heard?”
Sloane stood quickly, her heart immediately pounding. “Heard what?”
Dani took another breath, steadying herself. Her voice came out carefully, as though speaking the words made them terrifyingly real. “Catherine. She’s been in an accident.”
Time halted abruptly. For a moment, the room spun slowly around Sloane, colors blurring, Dani’s words sinking into her chest like sharp, merciless blows. She stared blankly, unable to comprehend the reality behind Dani’s frantic expression.
“Accident?” she echoed faintly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dani stepped forward, gently grasping her friend’s shoulders, anchoring her back to reality. “A car crash. A mutual friend from the hospital texted me and said it’s serious. She’s in surgery. Or she just came out. I don’t know. I knew you’d want to?—”
The world snapped back into focus sharply, panic flooding Sloane’s veins like ice water. “What hospital?”
“Harrington Memorial,” Dani said, her voice steadying, her eyes locking onto Sloane’s.
Sloane moved without thinking, grabbing her jacket, keys slipping clumsily from her trembling fingers. Dani picked them up silently, pressing them firmly into her palm.
“Do you need me to drive you?” Dani offered gently.
Sloane shook her head, determination hardening her expression despite the fear thrumming violently beneath her ribs. “No. I…I need to do this alone.”
