Ava's POV
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, thick and sterile, burning its way into my senses. I tried to move.
Nothing.
A heavy weight pressed against my limbs, sinking me into the stiff mattress beneath me. My fingers twitched—or at least I thought they did. The effort alone sent a dull ache crawling up my arms. I winced as a sharp pinch shot through my wrist. Something was there, something tethering me down.
What… happened to me?
My mind reached for memories that weren't there. A gaping void. A heavy fog. I tried to chase the last thing I remembered, but it slipped away like water through my fingers.
I needed to open my eyes. I needed answers.
A hand—a warm, calloused hand—wrapped gently around mine, stroking my knuckles in slow, careful motions. The sensation was comforting, familiar, yet it made my skin prickle with unease.
I tried to speak, but the moment I parted my lips, a dry, raw burn crawled up my throat. I swallowed, but it only made it worse. Why does it hurt so much?
The skin around my neck felt tight. Raw. Burned.
I barely had time to process the thought before another set of hands touched me. Soft fingers brushed against my forehead, gently prying my eyelids open. A bright light pierced through the darkness, blinding me momentarily.
"Is she going to be okay?"
A voice—deep and filled with concern—spoke somewhere near me.
A flicker of recognition sparked in my mind. Merda?
"She should be up and about in a few," another voice—calm, professional—answered. "But please make sure you don't leave her side. She really needs someone for emotional support."
Emotional support?
Why?
My stomach churned, an uneasy feeling creeping into my chest. What happened to me?
I tried again, forcing my heavy eyelids open. The blinding white of the hospital room flooded my vision. I flinched, squeezing them shut before slowly adjusting to the light.
Turning my head to the side, I saw her.
Merda.
She sat beside my bed, watching me with something I had never seen in her before.
Sympathy.
The usually bitter and sharp-edged woman looked… fragile. Concern etched deep lines into her dark skin as she lifted my hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
Her voice was softer than usual, as if I were made of glass, like one wrong word would shatter me.
I tried to respond, but all that escaped was a wheezing breath.
"No, don't speak," she soothed, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "It's okay. Take it easy, child."
But her comfort only made the anxiety coil tighter in my chest.
Why was she looking at me like that? Where was the bitter, sharp-tongued Merda?
Why the hell was I in a hospital?
The unanswered questions buzzed violently in my head, making my breathing quicken. I needed to know.
Ignoring the searing pain in my throat, I forced the words out.
"I… I…" The sound was barely a whisper.
Merda's grip on my hand tightened.
"What… am I doing here?" I rasped, my voice unfamiliar. Weak. Hollow.
Her lips parted slightly before she let out a slow exhale, her thumb tracing small circles against my palm.
"Rhys said…" she started, her voice heavy, as if the words were bricks weighing down her tongue.
"There was a 911 call. Someone reported a young woman passed out in a backyard."
Her voice cracked at the last word.
My backyard.
A strange, cold feeling crept up my spine.
"They said… they found you on the ground," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. A lone tear slid down her cheek, glistening under the fluorescent lights.
Why does this feel wrong?
"I know you've had a lot on your plate, Ava," she sighed, her voice trembling. "But I never thought you would do something this… this stupid."
I blinked.
What?
She inhaled sharply, as if steadying herself.
"You tried to take your own life."
The words hit me like a hammer to the chest.
My heart stopped. My breath hitched. My skin went ice cold.
"Wh…" My voice failed me.
Merda didn't seem to notice my reaction.
"The cops arrived and found a rope wrapped around your neck," she whispered. "They said you tried to hang yourself from the roof… but it snapped."
I couldn't breathe.
"They also found self-inflicted cuts on your arms. A blade in your house."
My hands started to tremble.
"Everything pointed to the same conclusion." She let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand down her face. "You tried to kill yourself."
I couldn't move. I couldn't even cry.
She thought… she thought I did this to myself?
I swallowed, my breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.
And then it hit me.
The terror.
Not because of what Merda was saying.
But because I remembered.
I remembered exactly what happened that night.
I hadn't tried to kill myself.
Something had wrapped around my neck. Tight. Unforgiving.
I hadn't held the blade. It had pressed against my skin, guided by something unseen.
The whisper. The whisper that had crept into my ears.
The shadow. The thing that had watched me. Waited for me.
I choked on a sob, my entire body wracked with violent tremors.
"Merda," I gasped, gripping her hand with all the strength I had left.
"Please… listen to me."
She hushed me, pressing another soft kiss to my knuckles, mistaking my terror for regret.
"It's okay, Ava. You're safe now."
No.
She didn't understand.
I wasn't safe.
Not even close.
It was still out there.
And it was coming back.