I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying to understand, but everything feels off-kilter, like reality has shifted.
“I should’ve gotten rid of you the second I knew you existed,” my mother says, her voice cold as ice. “Buthestopped me.”
She spits the word like it’s poison.
“Your father was always a problem. I married that fool because I had to. He was rich. But he just couldn’t keep his nose in his own business. Saddling me with an ungrateful brat like you.”
My stomach lurches violently.
“You were supposed to be erased,” she hisses, taking a stepcloser, her heels clicking ominously on the concrete. “Just like the others.”
The zip-tie bites deeper as I shrink back against the ground, panic clawing at my throat.
“And now you think you can waltz around,” she says, her voice laced with contempt, eyes dropping pointedly to my stomach, “carrying another mistake? I don’t think so.”
Rose leans against the door frame, looking bored. “Fix her. I have to go. I have to meet a guy about the license plates.”
My heart pounds so violently it feels like it might break my ribs.
No.
No, they can’t.
I twist my wrists, desperate to break free, but the plastic only cuts deeper into my skin, leaving angry red welts.
Rose gets back in the driver’s seat, and the car peels off, leaving me alone with my mother.
“Let’s go,” she snaps. But as soon as my feet hit the ground, adrenaline kicks in.
Pure survival.
Rage.
I shove my mother—hard—and she stumbles back, swearing viciously. She tries to grab me but I’m already running, my lungs burning, my wrists aching, every instinct screaming.
I don’t get far.
A figure steps out from the shadows ahead.
Lucas.
He looks worse than when I saw him last—one eye swollen, his mouth split and bruised—but his smile when he sees me is pure malice.
“Going somewhere, little sister?”
“No,” I gasp, backing away. “Stay away from me?—”
He grabs me by the hair, yanking so hard my vision whites out with pain. I scream, thrashing, but he just laughs, wrappinghis fist tighter in my hair and dragging me, half-crawling, half-stumbling, toward the decrepit building.
“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he snarls in my ear. “Should’ve stayed the good little girl who did what she was told.”
The door to the clinic slams open under his boot.
The place reeks of bleach and rot. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sickly, yellow glow over cracked floors and peeling walls. Despite the stuffy, overheated air inside, I can feel the cold seeping through the thin walls and cracked windows, making the already oppressive atmosphere even more suffocating.
Two nurses glance up from behind a counter. A doctor leans against a nearby doorframe, sipping coffee like nothing unusual is happening.
They watch Lucas drag me inside like it’s an everyday occurrence.
