ise

brimming, a perfect picture of a damsel in distress. I watched, a detached observer, as Dawson murmured something, gently caressing her

manufactured tears, met mine across the sterile expanse of the corridor. A faint,

surprisingly clear. "I heard what happened

mind a blank canvas. I had no energy,

said you were very upset about the money for my surgery. But you know, it's a matter of l

h wave of pain washing over me. I wanted to tell her to shut up, to scream that her go

shot out, grasping at the hem of my dress, her grip surprisingly strong. "Please, Eloise! Please don'

ed, fake sobs wracking her body. "I know this is a lot to ask, but please, don't make Dawson regret helping me! Please,

stations. Other patients and visitors stopped, their conversations dying out. S

ening?" some

e a fight

s so sick. And the o

so heartless, when

tried to pull my dress from Campbell's grasp, but her hold was tenacious. The

ver the scene: Campbell on her knees, clinging to my dress, sobbing dramatically, and the rapidly

ice was low, laced with barely contained fury. Then his eyes, blazing with an unfamiliar hatred, fixed on

barely audible. The pain in my stomach was inte

said, after forcing me to leave, now you come here to torment a sick woman?" He looked around at the murmuring crowd, hi

ct. I was numb. His accusations felt like pebbles thrown int

shoulder. I stumbled backward, unprepared. My feet tangled, and I fell, hitting the hard hospital floor with a jarr

tive gasp rose

e stopped, looking down, confused by my sudden weakness. He didn't know. He coul

knew. He instinctively started to bend, a faint "Eloise?" on his lips. But I recoiled,

audible, but filled with a new, chilling resolve. I slowly, painstakingly, got to my feet. "And keep

red with anger, turned ashen. He stared, completely stunned, as I turned a