Each day, Calla and her fragile heart are that little bit closer to death... but before she goes she'll prove to the world the boy she loves is no murderer.
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With a life steeped in wealth and privilege, Calla Pierce should be protected from t...
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Bright lights burn beyond my eyelids. I'm aware of the familiar coarse sheets wrapped around my body, the unpleasant smell of disinfectant and the scent that never leaves no matter how much they scrub - the smell of people. A burning pain sizzles across my chest, an ache down to the bone. Breathing is exhausting.
Slowly, I open my eyes. Drag myself to waking. I know that I'm in a hospital bed. The groggy feeling of drugs still floating through my bloodstream is one I've experienced time and time again. As is the unsettling sense that I have no idea of the day or time. I'm hooked up to so many drips and machines I'd struggle to move, even if my body was strong enough to get out of bed.
I've had surgery.
Glancing around my room, the stark whiteness feels alien, as do my sisters, as if I haven't seen them in years. Daylight is bleaching their skin, and their clothes, stripping them of human colour. I see Alice curled up in a padded chair beside me, her ballerina body contorted like a pretzel as she taps lazily on her phone. Her hair is a greasy mass knotted on top of her head, and her lean body in crumpled gym clothes. Mari is in another chair against the wall opposite me, her head on her shoulder. A thick woollen cardigan draped around her like a blanket.
I try to speak, but my throat is so dry it burns.
"Alice..." I whisper. She glances up from her phone, her eyes widening. Her whole body tenses.
"Calla... ohmygod... you're awake."
"Can I..." I glance to the side table where a jug perches temptingly close. "Water please?"
She nods and leaps out of the chair. Awkwardly sloshing some on the floor, she pours me a glass and presses it to my lips. I try to sit up, but Alice shakes her head and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder, keeping me down on the bed. I take a few small sips until it's not enough, and take a great gulp. The stale but icy liquid soothes my throat.
"You had a breathing tube. They said you'd be sore for a while. They took it out a couple of hours ago when you started waking up." She's talking fast, babbling a little, glancing again and again at the sleeping Mari.
Gasping at the exertion, I sink back down as she makes her way back to the armchair.
"What happened?"
She purses her lips and glances around at Mari once more. Willing her to wake and spare her this, I have no doubt.
"I should get Mum and Dad. Or maybe Mari..."
I frown. There's a wrongness in her face, in her voice, but my sluggish brain can't process it any further. Alice leaving the difficult conversations to Mari isn't unusual, but she looks terrified. She's gripping the chair so hard her knuckles are bone-white.
"Just tell me. What did they do to Owen?"
She nods and moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. She takes my hand and suddenly I'm very afraid. She stares down at our hands, avoiding my eyes. She takes a deep breath before finally speaking.
