JENNIE
A symphony of beeping machinery lured me into consciousness. Just from the way my nostrils twitched, I knew where I was before my eyes even opened.
A hospital.
Over the past year, I'd been in enough of them to envision the layout of this room entirely from assumption. A spacious one, judging from the echo. Private, most likely.
I wasn't alone, either—that had to be a first. Someone nearby was speaking in a hushed voice. My doctor?
Or perhaps devil would be a more fitting term.
"I didn't know who else to call," the person said, her voice easily placed. Lisa. My eyes were too heavy to open, but I could picture her paces away, scowling to match the gruffness of her baritone. "She trusts you, at least. Perhaps you can discover who the…cause of this may be."
"Cause? I should have never let you order me to stay away from her," a woman replied, her lilting accent distinct.
I knew her as well. My brain struggled to recall a name, but forming a solid thought at all felt like grasping at tendrils of smoke. All I could do was listen.
"Though it seems you haven't kept to that stupid 'bargain,' either," she said accusingly. "I thought you weren't planning on returning for at least a few years—"
"There was a complication," Lisa interjected. "A minor one. Once it is resolved, I don't plan on staying long."
"You mean a complication concerning Jennie," the woman surmised. "I thought you might have been watching her—and you have, haven't you?"
"Only enough to know that she consulted a doctor who began contacting outside experts regarding her case. I decided to intervene before the chatter could catch Raphael's attention."
"Something you could order any one of your associates to do," the woman pointed out. "You could have asked me as well. Though, I should have visited her anyway, with or without your permission. Maybe I could have prevented her from… To be honest, I thought you were joking at first. I mean, Jennie isn't exactly the type of woman one would expect to wind up in this condition."
"Are you implying that I'm incompetent? I ran the tests more than once," Lisa snapped. "I had them corroborated with several other professionals—"
"Leaving out one obvious reason why this doesn't make any sense, I am sure. Unless… You don't really think she's been with someone else since you've—"
"Are you insinuating another possibility?" Lisa wondered, and a part of me chafed at the grit in her voice. She sounded too calm—and in my experience, that was when she had the most potential for cruelty. "Don't be naïve, Jisoo. There is only one logical conclusion."
"Lisa, I was only—"
"And don't insult my intelligence by pretending that you don't know the rumors spreading concerning her, either. Concerning my interest in her. That I lust after the weak little mortal like a wolf would a lamb. Is that what you think as well? I know Raphael in particular rather enjoys that theory—"
"Of course not!"
"My interest in Jennie Kim extends purely to her bloodline," Lisa insisted. "Raphael attacked her for a reason. Her body reacted to him so violently for a reason. I intend to discover why before he can use whatever information he knows against me. Nothing more."
"Fine," Jisoo conceded. "So, did you find what you were looking for?"
"The question isn't whether I did," Lisa snapped. "It's whether or not I believe the superstitious drivel in the first place. Don't tell me you do? Is that the real reason you fought so hard to make me notice Jennie in the first place? Not that it matters. It seems she hasn't lacked for male company."
"Lisa, I'm on your side," Jisoo insisted. "I'm simply trying to understand. This isn't like you. Since when have you cared about what Raphael might think? And how would I know anything about the 'rumors' when you barely even talk about your past—"
"And I'm not willing to start now," Lisa growled. "Once I finish cleaning up this mess, I will leave. Tonight."
"On another wild goose chase?"
"No," she replied, but her tone had hardened. "I intend to take a more direct route, this time. Even if it means going to a monster we both despise..."
"Ah, so that's why you really asked me here?" Jisoo's tone turned cutting. Hostile. "You don't give a damn about Jennie now that she's moved on. You only want my permission to talk to him. The very monster you saved me from."
A deliberate pause left her statement hanging in the air. Finally, Lisa admitted, "Your permission? No. Your understanding? Yes. You and I both know that Dmitri possesses more knowledge in his twisted skull than anyone."
"Yes," the woman agreed. "Knowledge that he would barter for your soul—or, worse. Whatever answers he could give you wouldn't be worth the price you'd have to pay, trust me on that—"
"It's not merely answers I'm after."
Some internal part of me squirmed, alarmed by the emotion bared in her words. Concern? Or fear.
"You claim to be concerned for Jennie? Well, the necklace should have preserved her life, but it hasn't. I could smell the sickness in her. If her health remains in such a perilous state, this could kill her. By merely attempting to feed from her, I almost did."
"I know," the woman whispered. "But you weren't yourself. We both know how hunger can affect you. I should have talked you out of ever giving up that stupid amulet in the first place—"
"So, she could die sooner?" Lisa countered.
"No, of course not! Although—"
"Although, if you had, we wouldn't be in this dilemma." Lisa paused before continuing. "Don't look at me like that, Jisoo, I know what you're thinking. We both know it to be true." An air of regret laced her words and it twisted my insides like a knife. "Alive or dead, Jennie Kim seems destined to thwart all logic where safety is concerned."
"That's not what I mean! Look, I won't pretend like I have any other options, but anyone is better than that son of a bitch. Just wait a few more days and I'll try to find something myself. Even Somi might—"
"Or Raphael?"
"No!" The woman choked out a tortured laugh. "I…I suppose going to him would be even worse than Dmitri. But just listen to me. If you can hold off for a few days, I will help you in any way I can, but I can't… If you do decide to seek out Dmitri, then please don't count on me to accompany you. Give me a week. I'm sure we can find the answers on our own. Please."
"…A week," Lisa conceded after a moment's silence.
"Good," Jisoo agreed. "And as far as Jennie is concerned, I'll do what I can to help her. Let me know when she wakes up, and I'll bring some things for her. God, I can't imagine how scared she must be—"
"I'm not sure if she even knows." Lisa sounded cold again. My tired brain tried desperately to piece together what she referred to. Something concerning me…
Something awful.
"W-What?" Jisoo exclaimed. Seconds passed before she regained her composure enough to ask, "And, if she doesn't you will tell her gently, won't you? Without making her feel any worse? I mean, it—"
"I found her with someone last night. Perhaps I interrupted a congratulatory dinner?" A laugh undercut Lisa's chilling baritone. "I think we have both learned by now that Jennie Kim deserves anything but pity."
"Don't be like that. You've hurt her once—you and I both know it. I doubt even someone of your fortitude has the willpower to do it twice. Especially about this. Just tread carefully."
A weighty silence didn't reveal her answer either way.
Finally, Jisoo sighed. "I'm just asking you to think this through. Your decisions may have far greater consequences than even you could bear. Now, I need to get back to the club. That bitch Somi will get suspicious if I stay away for too long. As far as your concerns go, give us a week to find our own answers before you go off again. A week. Promise me…"
--
I must have drifted in and out of consciousness, because when I finally blinked my eyes open, a figure loomed near the end of my bed, emanating a chill that resonated in my bones.
"Don't move," she warned.
One flex of my limbs and I understood why. Pain flooded my system, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Jesus Christ." I exhaled a shaky breath as the world gradually came into focus. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
"You're still healing," the speaker continued, her face a blobby blur. "You've lost a lot of blood. In your condition, you're lucky to not have suffered a worse fate."
Still healing? I turned, driven by an instinctive dread. And for good reason—more blinking brought an object lurking just beyond me into clearer focus. A long metal pole. Dangling from the very top was a bag of red fluid.
"A blood transfusion?" I deduced, horrified.
"Four pints lost," Lisa declared, stepping closer. The waning daylight was just enough for me to make out her expression—surly eyes and stiffened lips.
Dread unfurled in my belly. I knew that look. She was in a brooding mood.
"Count your blessings that you're even able to move."
"Get. It…" I had to suck in air to form each word. My fingers twitched on command but lacked the strength to rip out the IV. "Out. Get it out of me—"
"Do you understand what I just said? You hemorrhaged. You're weak." She wasn't using her clinical, doctorly voice anymore. "You've been out for nearly two days. There are corpses that portray more vitality than you."
And if I didn't know any better, I might suspect the devil was…exhausted?
Her face revealed nothing discernible. As stoic as ever, she stood near a wide bay window overlooking an unfamiliar view of the city. From the bed, I caught snippets of the landscape beyond her: skyscrapers, bright lights. It was an area far from the reclusive hillside domain of Kim Manor—that was for sure.
And far from her cathedral where my last, hazy memories centered upon.
Mainly one image that chilled me to the bone.
"I bled," I whispered, hating how hoarse my voice sounded, "because you bit me."
"I did," she admitted, training her gaze on the view. "I shouldn't have fed from you, but the venom merely exacerbated your underlying condition. It didn't cause it—"
"Condition? Oh, don't tell me." I shifted to observe her fully. "You figured out my mysterious illness? What is it this time? Another blood disease?"
Despite my bravado, my voice broke. The world was spinning around me. Oddly enough, she was the stubborn anchor, as unmoving and rigid as the day we'd met. One of her hands fiddled with something hanging from her throat—shining, small, silver…
No, it couldn't be. I felt along my own neck, finding it bare—but too many thoughts battled for attention to care.
The person was an Indian Giver. So what?
So what if some of my last memories were of her scolding me as to the importance of that very necklace?
So what.
"Congratulations." I forced my hands together in a pathetic imitation of applause though it took nearly all of my strength. One pathetic clap was all I could accomplish. "What will I have to sell to you this time in exchange for the cure?"
"Cure?" she wondered in a dangerously soft tone. Her shoulders were so rigid that I bit my lip. Odd. She should have been gloating. Not tense, her head bowed in contemplation. "If you want to take that route, then I need to ask you something," she warned.
"Why?" I tried to shrug off her caution. "Are you pretending to be my doctor again? I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I have a new doctor. A real one, who isn't inclined to drink blood in her spare time."
"You don't have any idea, do you?" she looked up, and nothing could prepare me for the ice in her expression. Lisa wasn't just brooding—it was so much worse.
She was furious.
"J-Just…" I stammered, wringing my fingers until a coherent reply finally formed on my tongue. "Just tell me, oh wise one. What's wrong with me now?"
Her gaze cut away from me as she started to pace. "I don't know how else to ask this other than bluntly. Who have you been with, excluding me?"
Been with…
Fire heated my cheeks. Her tone said it all. How big of a harlot are you Jennie, now that your virginity is a moot point?
Needles of shame stabbed through my chest though I bit my lip to disguise my reaction. The only way to counter her was with a forced smile and more faked bravado.
"Other than you?" I coyly raised my hand and ticked each finger off one by one. "Why, Gabriel Lanic. My driver. My maids, before I fired them. My gardener. My security guards—"
"Enough!"
Shock rendered me senseless, and memories that shouldn't have been there popped into my head. Her, on top of me, her hands beneath my dress. More recently, her delivering a tortured observation in a callous whisper. There is something wrong with you…
I swallowed hard. This wasn't happening. I wasn't on my figurative deathbed while a vampire taunted me about intercourse.
"Leave me alone—"
"Answer the question," she snarled in a tone so hard I jumped.
"No one," I managed to rasp.
Rather than sneer at the admission, she…frowned. "Your modesty means nothing at this point, so I'd prefer if you didn't lie. Just give me a name."
"No. One," I insisted, clearly enough for her to absorb every single word. My cheeks were aflame, and I had to resist the urge to cackle hysterically. This was some mind game on her part, of course. Accuse me of being a moral-less harlot, right before coming in for the kill: I'd already given her my virginity, why not give her her precious contract as well?
"If there is a point to this," I added harshly, "then I suggest you get to it."
Her brow furrowed and then her expression went blank. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, cutting off all emotion the bastard might deign to feel. Even rage. "I've arranged for you to see a doctor."
Something in her tone made me huddle beneath my blankets before I realized.
"What doctor?"
She had already turned on her heel and stormed from the room. Seconds later, a woman appeared in her wake. Slim and tall, her modest features and stern, wire glasses projected a knowledgeable aura even someone like Lisa Manoban would defer to.
"Hello Jennie," she said softly. "I'm Dr. Martin."
Minutes into a brief assessment, I had to admit that she seemed capable enough. She asked pertinent questions and thankfully wasn't as cheerful as Dr. Goodfellow. Hell, I almost felt as insignificant as a lab rat by the time she finished drawing vials of blood and left the room. But then, minutes later, she returned, lugging a sleek, square-shaped machine behind her.
"Ms. Kim," she began in a crisp, efficient tone, "I would like to get an abdominal ultrasound, if that is alright with you."
"An ultrasound?" It was a terrifying term, especially when paired with the high-tech machinery she expertly began to program. "W-why?" I asked, even as a part of me suspected what the answer may be.
Something far worse than a mere cough ailed me. A tumor? Rather than voice that suspicion herself, Dr. Martin took advantage of my silence to plug the machine into the wall.
"Ready?" The woman must have mistaken my panicked expression for permission, because she proceeded to turn the machine on.
And I squeezed my eyes shut.
I couldn't stop my hands from childishly flying up to cover my ears as well. But that didn't mean I couldn't feel. My hospital gown withdrew, allowing cold hands to feel my flesh underneath. An even colder substance greeted my belly a second later, biting through my numb skin. And then I sensed pressure, pressing up, down, around. Searching. Hunting. What for? A blockage, a tumor...or something worse?
I didn't know.
There was no cry of triumph, in the end, when Dr. Martin settled the probe near my pelvic bone. No mechanical beeping to alert those nearby of the machine's findings. Just a low, terrifying hum I heard even through my fingers. I was forced to press harder, shutting out everything but the steady, fast thrum of a heartbeat. My heartbeat?
My condition was more dire than expected if my heart was working so feverishly.
Seconds later, the pressure abated without fanfare. As if from miles away, I heard Dr. Martin murmur something to another presence who entered the room, their scent alone broadcasting their identity. Icy. Chilled. Winter. Whatever she said, it was succinct. Conclusive. As the material of my gown lowered, a soft touch ghosted my cheek and I let my hands fall.
"We're done, Jennie."
"So…what now?" My eyes reluctantly opened to the white ceiling, blinded by the artificial light. I blinked to get my bearings, only to find Dr. Martin slipping through the doorway without so much as a word. But someone new stood in her place. My, what a difference a few minutes and tests had made. Silver eyes honed in on me with a chilling intensity that made me shiver.
"W-what?" Somehow, I managed to choke out a weak laugh. "What is it? How many months do I have to live this time?"
I was only half joking. From her expression, I discerned my condition wasn't too serious. Even she would show some ounce of sympathy. Right?
"What is it?" My voice ricocheted off the ceiling, high-pitched and breathless.
Finally, Lisa cocked her head. "There's fluid in your lungs," she said, sounding remarkably unconcerned by that fact. "You'll require treatment for it. You're malnourished. Your bloodwork is a case study in critical values. And—" she hesitated, turning the full power of her gaze on me once again. Just when I thought I might shrivel beneath the scrutiny, she added, "You're also pregnant, a little over eight weeks along. Congratulations."
I focused on how she said that word first. Congratulations. No one in the history of the world had ever sounded less sincere. Then, piece by piece, I dissected the rest…
Eight weeks.
"V-Very funny." I started to sit upright, coughing with the effort. I covered my mouth with my palm and flinched as warm liquid splattered it with every hacking breath. "I hope you got your laugh, at least—"
"Lie down." Only then did I realize she wasn't laughing. Or smiling. "I'm not lying," she continued. "Dr. Martin confirmed it. She is never wrong. Shall I phrase it differently? Your body is manifesting a growth of unconfirmed origin."
Despite the insanity leaving her mouth, she looked clinical. She looked detached. She looked every bit like the calloused doctor who'd intruded into my life all those months ago and left chaos behind.
"W-What…what does that even mean? Is that your way of saying I have cancer? Some kind of tumor?"
Anything but pregnancy. In this case, the term probably served as a standin for yet another made-up illness. Perhaps a blood disease lacked enough dramatic flair, so Lisa Manoban had developed a new destructive narrative in her quest for more souls.
"What will it take to 'fix' me this time?" I wondered, switching tact to cut right to the chase. My gaze fell over her hands, waiting for the moment she'd withdraw some magical vial from her pocket. "I'll have you know that I much preferred the 'degenerative blood disease' narrative, by the way—"
"You do realize what I've said," Lisa interjected, still utterly emotionless. "Do I need to explain it to you?"
God, she sounded too serious. Too real. Pregnancy, Jennie. Reproduction. Spawn. Should I draw a diagram?
"I…" A million words welled up behind my tongue. Oddly enough I could only croak out two at a time. "You're lying. You're wrong."
Which was worse? That someone could be so cruel? Or that someone could be so...stupid?
"You've made a mistake," I insisted, settling on the latter. Felt through the thin hospital gown, my stomach curved inward, mockingly concave. Empty… As my fingers drifted lower, they struck protruding hip bones.
"Mistake, no," Lisa said, running her fingers along the collar of her suit jacket as if flicking all implications of failure away. "I will say that the results didn't show up in the normal range. However, I had your blood sample tested. Of course, we'll do more conclusive tests, but the results strongly indicate… Well, I suggest you continue this discussion with the father. That might give you a bit more insight. I could bring him here, if you wish." Her eyes cut to mine, devoid of anything remotely compassionate. "Just give me a name."
All at once, I fell back, striking my head off the edge of a pillow. The pain barely registered above a sudden need for clarity. "T-the what?"
"The father, Jennie," she said, enunciating each and every word.
And suddenly her previous line of questioning made horrible, perfect sense. Who have you been with, excluding me?
"You…you're serious?" As dizzy as I was, I felt the need to haul myself upright as I spoke. That question could only be delivered when I could look her dead in the eye. Piercing, fathomless eyes glared back. Blank eyes. The Devil's eyes. "Are you that inept of how biology works, in your advanced age, or are you just that damn cruel?" That was what I said in my head. The only sound to register against my ears, however, was a moan.
"Enlighten me, Jennie," Lisa demanded, but her voice… An emotion I couldn't name stripped it down to grated words and harsh syllables—a dangerous baritone I knew all too well.
"Enlighten you?" I echoed, still struggling to understand the challenge. "Perhaps you should enlighten me?" I coughed again but the need for answers trumped all concern. My lungs were collapsing. My throat caved in on itself, capable only of spitting words out rather than letting any air in. "How. Could. This. Happen?"
"Sex, obviously," she countered. But even though I only had weeks of knowledge to draw from, I knew her too well: that wasn't honesty. It was a rebuttal. An accusation.
Sex with someone.
Because that is the only way you could possibly become pregnant.
I swayed as the world shifted. Suddenly, she was everywhere, blocking my path.
"You need to lie down."
Her nearness alone stirred my body's instinctive flight or fight response. My heart screamed 'flight' but my pride, what little remained of it, wouldn't cow to her accusation. I needed answers. Any answer, and she needed to be the one to give it.
"Do the math," I panted against my palm. I knew she heard me, already piecing the timeframe together on her own.
In simple arithmetic, eight weeks ago resulted in a period roughly around the instance when I barged in on her suite, bleeding and half dead. When she cut me. When she kissed me. When she made me feel, for a second, that perhaps it all hadn't been a complete lie…
No! I pushed back my blankets and tried to stand. Trembling legs collapsed beneath me, and I would have fallen if a hand didn't cinch my arm at the last moment.
As if in a parallel universe, a woman walked by the doorway carrying a clipboard. She startled and looked up, only to turn away again. This moment was insignificant in her life. A chance meeting. A passing glance. Had she anything worthwhile to offer, how different a meeting might it have gone between her and the one behind me?
"Watch yourself!" Lisa's grip locked me in place, hard and punishing.
Through her flexing fingertips, I could sense everything she didn't dare say. Anger. Resentment. Fury?
"Get off—"
"Give me a name," she countered. "Or can you even remember? You had me fooled, I will admit. Oh, that innocent little virgin act was a stroke of genius, but in the end, it seems your hunger needed to be sated by someone."
"Stop!"
"No," she grated against my ear as I resisted her vice-like grip. It was as if the curtain had been pulled back and her poised, suave act splintered, revealing the true beast lurking underneath, demanding answers of her own.
"Tell me. Who was it?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it.
"Who?" her voice had devolved to a growl, lacking any semblance of polish though I couldn't understand why. Certainly not…jealousy?
No. Self-pity instead. Poor Lisa Manoban. How had the devious Jennie Kim managed to trick her this time? First by tangling her within her own web?
And now this?
Another sound tore from my throat at the thought of it, though this time I wasn't sure if it was a cackle or a sigh.
"I may have sold you my virginity," I tossed back to her. "But pardon me, Lisa, if I still have morals." That was all I needed to say. Nothing else. Nothing bitter. Nothing real. Too late. More words spilled out. "You were the only one—"
My throat hitched and I grasped for the end of the mattress, leaning away from her. My chest heaved. It ached. God, I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't catch anything. My senses. My sanity.
"What are you saying?" her voice reached me as if from miles away. I finally looked back.
She no longer glared, her jaw clenched.
A multitude of words sprung to my lips but just a handful escaped. "If I'm… If… You do realize that it would be because of you?"
The look on her face. I would never forget it. Like I just told the most beautiful lie. Like I had crushed her soul and self-worth in one fell swoop.
Like I had hurt her this time.
And God, I would have been lying if I claimed I took pride in it.
"Well? Say something!"
Instead, her eyes cut down to my chest, settling over my throat.
But anger and shame had control of my body and my mouth opened for one last petty blow. "Is this your way of payback?" I croaked. "For what Raphael did to you?"
Namely, what her adversary had given to me. A life for a life?
And still, she said nothing. So cold. So…frozen.
So, I did the only thing one could in my situation.
I lashed out, intending to slap her, only to grapple for her lapel as my stomach roiled.
And I vomited blood all over her white shirt.
--
I was in a nightmare, but it didn't end as I opened my eyes.
I must have fainted. Lisa paced before my narrow bed, her back to me. We were still in that clinical, clean room with the door flung open to allow in the hustle and bustle of the rest of the hospital. The faint noises seemed miles away—another universe—mocking me as my reality crumbled to pieces.
"Raphael. He did this," Lisa growled, but the tirade wasn't directed at me for once. She glared instead, her gaze turned inward. "He knew. He…damn him. Damn." She tore her hands through her hair and I swallowed, too stunned to speak. She—the pompous, callous contractor—didn't act like this. Frantic. Unpolished.
Afraid?
Air wheezed from my chest, forming a strangled cough I couldn't suppress.
"Jennie…" Lisa ceased her hurried pace and turned to me. "Let's assume you aren't lying," she said coldly. "And let's not waste time on petty indignation, either. This is important. What have you been eating?"
I stared at her, still convinced I was dreaming. None of this was real. It wasn't…
"What have you eaten?"
"Food," I croaked in response to the authority in her tone. "But even the thought of it makes me…"
My gag reflex triggered, though my body was too exhausted to follow through. I just choked on empty air. At least there was no blood.
Yet Lisa eyed me more intently than before. Her gaze swept downward as if hunting for a certain reaction. "Think," she warned. "What have you tried drinking?"
"Water," I hissed, the obvious response. "And…"
A memory unfolded, too vivid to describe in words.
"What is it?"
Her gaze was too severe to ignore. Almost as if she already knew just what images flashed within my mind. My thumb sliced open. Blood. The taste of it…
Gritting my teeth, I blurted out, "I pricked my finger the other day." The hand in question rested weakly by my side, my thumb still an angry, bitten red. "It bled and I…"
The knowledge that I was in a nightmare stripped everything of the dire urgency she seemed to feel—at least in my case. I sounded so bored, in a sense. I'd just professed a slight craving for blood. How blasé.
Evidently, Lisa wasn't of the same opinion. She turned on her heel and strolled for the door.
"W-Wait!" I struggled to lift my head from my pillow.
Her footsteps continued down the hallway regardless.
There was nothing left to do but count my own surging heartbeat. One. Ten. Fifty. Too sluggish. Too fast. My lungs burned, shriveling beneath each breath I sucked in.
Focus, Jennie. Again, I tried to move a limb. A leg. An arm. Anything? Dripping sweat, I finally managed to raise the hand attached to the IV. First things first, I felt along my throat again, this time searching for bite marks. I found nothing apart from clammy skin. Damn her.
Lisa Manoban wouldn't be able to swoop in and bestow another "cure" just in time to save the day. My attention reverted to the hanging IV, and I was about ready to rip the damn tubing out with my teeth by the time she reentered the room.
"Look at me," she commanded.
As I did, any argument I could have leveled died in my throat. A clinical, detached posture transformed her—now, she was a cold doctor with a theory to test. In one hand, she held a white Styrofoam cup with a lid and a straw sticking out of the top. In the other was a prepackaged plate of chocolate cake, like the kind one might find in a café.
"I told you I can't keep anything down." As I spoke, the heavenly scent of cocoa reached my nose as if to spite me.
"Sit up." She approached a bedside tray and pulled it closer. Then she offered the cup to me directly. "Drink."
I had a hunch that there wasn't water in that cup. My fingers twitched, unwilling to accept it. I wanted her to leave again. I needed to hate her again. That and silence were all I had left.
"Get out."
"Listen to me—"
"Why?" I scoffed, but she didn't budge.
Her hand was unmoving, her gaze drifting from my throat to my wrists, sensing the frailty I couldn't even try to hide.
"You're dying," she warned. "Drink."
Before I could argue, a rare emotion flickered across her gray irises and I flinched. That look compelled me in a way even her surliest of growls could not.
I reached for the cup, wrapping my fingers around the smooth surface, intending to throw it. Before I made my move, she tipped her hand, guiding the straw to my dry, cracked lips. I tried to clench my teeth in defiance.
No!
This is insane.
"Jennie, drink."
My mouth opened. Lisa didn't beg. Ever. It was a trick, obviously. Too drained to play her game, I relented. One sip. Purely for experimental reasons—the main one being so that I could spit whatever it was out in her face.
But the moment the warm, mystery liquid hit my tongue…
My throat contracted. More. Another sip. More. Long, desperate pulls. More. More. More. The desperate mantra drowned out everything else. Like shame, as I remembered how to make my limbs move and snatched the cup with both hands.
God, the satiation was indescribable. Terrifying. As if I had been dying of thirst only to stumble upon an oasis. A salty, bitter oasis flooded with sustenance that I knew instinctively hadn't come from her.
In the literal sense.
Stop! Agony tore through my skin as my conscience overrode hunger. I pulled back, gasping at enough air to spit out a single question she already had the answer to.
"No one was harmed."
Such a carefully worded statement, but it was enough. The straw slipped between my teeth again and I inhaled every last drop, heedless of the horror building at the back of my skull. It could wait. I could hate myself later. For now, my eyes slid shut, my stomach finally contented, and I blinded myself to all other thoughts and sensations—everything but this elusive sense of fullness. It was heaven, cushioning the blow when I finally resurfaced, as she snatched the cup from my hand.
"Eat."
She wheeled the bedside tray closer and unwrapped the slice of cake, which she shoved in my direction, along with a fork.
"I told you that I can't," I insisted. But something had changed. Once I inhaled the aroma in full, my stomach didn't rebel. I didn't need her assistance to sit up, either.
With the tip of the fork, I sliced off a sliver of dessert and settled the morsel onto my tongue. I'd barely convinced myself that projectile vomit onto the person across from me would be a satisfying reaction by the time I finally swallowed.
Rather than rebel, my stomach growled for more. One bite became another. Then a chunk. Then a piece ripped off with my bare fingers when the fork wouldn't suffice to gather up the crumbs fast enough.
Words couldn't describe what it felt like to taste an actual, solid meal after so long.
Words also couldn't describe the look on Lisa's face; it lingered for barely a second, but it was no less intense than her blank stare. Narrowed eyes containing the briefest hint of emotion. Revulsion?
Or fear.
Of me.
"What did you do to me?" Chocolate sprayed from my lips.
Quietly, she gathered the empty cup and the plate, tossing them both into the trash. Her eyes met mine once again, the longest she'd held my gaze since I'd woken up. Like pools of ice, they reflected my hollow expression back to me. Wide eyes. Open mouth. Flushed, hollow cheeks.
In silence, she left.
And I closed my eyes, determined to wake up.