xia

, the fever

g muscles and a throat that felt like it was lined with broken glass. Lena was my only lifeli

in a loop of nightmares. I saw Damien's cold, predatory eyes.

the waves of delirium, one thought

th

enuine warmth. But he was a man consumed by his business, a constant, absent presence in our

driftwood. He would never let this happen. He would never let me lie her

a fragile shield against

tant sound of a car engine crunching on th

her wa

rd the news. Surely, she thought, Mrs. Mitchell wou

't know m

e sharp and clear in the grand foyer.

trina? Has s

mily? Her first words, laced with impati

ched me next. "No, Madam. Miss

now dangerously low. "And Alexia? The one

I was "unwell" and

r scoffed. She didn't believe a word of it. To her, my illne

, the sharp click of her heels on the har

lway, her voice a timid squeak. "Madam

e a sound of disgust,

rhythm. I struggled to push myself up, my muscles screaming in

e ignited within me. Maybe when she s

with such force that it

her hair perfect. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on me

undiluted

a show," she said, her

d ember of hope

her expensive perfume a cloying, suffocat

e said, her voice as cold and hard

hair, and saw nothing. Her daughter was dying in front of her, b

he weight of two lifetimes of neglect, of being s

ghter. I wasn't even a person, I was