Chapter 4

• Morning broke.
• I stayed up all night, staring into the dark until a thin strip of light slipped through the crack under the door.
• The hunger had gone numb; only a hollow, burning ache remained.
• The gash on my forehead had crusted over; even the slightest touch stung.
• Upstairs, dishes clinked softly. The smell of food drifted down.
• The new part-time housekeeper upstairs was making breakfast—fried eggs and toast.
• I heard Mom chirp, “Grace’s appetite’s pretty good today. Make her another runny fried egg.”
• Dad grunted, the sound followed by the rustle of a newspaper.
• They acted like they’d forgotten there was a daughter locked in the basement, about to be wheeled onto an operating table.
• A daughter who hadn’t eaten a single bite since noon yesterday.
• At eight sharp, the storage room door swung open.
• Dad stood in the doorway, light slanting down behind him. I couldn’t read his face.
• “Time’s up. You walking, or do I carry you?”
• His voice was calm.
• I sat on the floor, unmoving.
• I lifted my head, and with my one good right eye, stared at him.
• “Dad,” I rasped.
• “If I die, will you be sad?” I asked.
• Dad went rigid.
• His Adam’s apple bobbed. He dodged my gaze and answered in a clipped tone, “Don’t talk nonsense.”
• In the same tone, he added, “You won’t die.”
• He leaned closer. “You’re saving Grace—and redeeming yourself.”
• Redemption?
• I let out a small, bitter laugh.
• He strode in and scooped me up.
• “Let me go! I can walk!”
• “Stop messing around, Ella! My patience is running out!”
• He growled and hurried out with me in his arms.
• Mom was waiting at the door, suited up, makeup on, face stern.
• Seeing me still fighting, her lip curled in disgust.
• “If this is how you’re going to be, why bother resisting in the first place? Did you have to make it so ugly?”
• She huffed. “Move. The hospital’s all set.”
• They shoved me into the back seat, and Mom got in with me, pressing me to the corner while Dad took the wheel.
• The car rolled out of the gated community.
• The street scenes flew by. Sunlight washed over the lawns.
• None of it had anything to do with me anymore.
• She turned toward me and forced what you could barely call a ‘gentle’ smile. She even lifted a hand, like she might pat my head.
• I instinctively pulled away.
• Her hand froze midair. The smile dropped off her face.
• “Ella, what is that attitude?”
• Her voice went cold again.
• “I’m doing this for your own good.”
• Then, her tone softened. “As long as you behave and help Grace, we’ll make it up to you—double, later.”
• She even smiled. “I’ll love you just like I love Grace.”
• There it was again.
• Every time she took something from me, she would say that.
• Love me like she loved Grace?
• I snapped my head up and fixed my gaze on her with my good eye.
• “You’re not saving her.”
• I didn’t raise my voice, but it cut through every inch of the car.
• Dad flinched at the wheel. The car lurched.
• Mom froze, like she hadn’t heard me right.
• “What did you say?”
• I stared at her and forced it out, hoarse, word by word, “You’re not saving her! You’re killing me!”
• I drew in a shaky breath. “Killing me—just faster than killing her, that’s all!”
• My chest heaved. “You’re insane!”
• Mom’s face flushed scarlet. She raised her hand to slap me.
• But I didn’t flinch.
• Just as her palm was about to land, I dug into the lining of my underwear and pulled out the note, warmed by my own body heat.
• I held it up against Mom’s face.
• It was just a plain sheet of stationery with a single line of messy handwriting, unmistakably Grace’s.
• Her hand froze midair. The second her eyes hit the words, her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
• The color drained from her face. Her lips trembled as she whispered in disbelief.
• “N-No… impossible… Grace, she….”