When The Devil Wants

Chapter Twelve

(Eleanor's POV)

The thought was still ringing in my head when my phone vibrated against my palm.

I almost dropped it. My taped wrist was still throbbing, and the hallway lights were too bright. I looked down.

It was an unknown number.

I pressed the answer button without thinking.

“Hello?”

The line crackled. Then a voice came in, rushed and professional.

“Ms. Thornhill? This is the emergency unit at St. Bridget's Hospital. I’m calling regarding Ms. Tiffany Alexander.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Tiffany.

“We have you listed as her emergency contact,” the nurse continued. “Ms. Alexander is awake and stable, and we would like you to come over and sign a few documents”

The world tilted.

“Alright, I'll be there now,” I answered almost desperately. My mind ran with different thoughts.

The call beeped and ended after that.

She's finally awake.

The word kept echoing in my head like a prayer of gratitude I didn’t know I knew.

I had so much to tell her, starting from an apology.

My legs moved before my brain caught up. I shoved the phone into my pocket and turned down the hallway, walking fast.

The floor swam under me. My ribs pulled with every step and I had to press a hand against them to keep going.

The automatic doors opened with a hiss.

Cold air hit my face, I let the feeling sink it, I could feel excitement surge through me in waves.

A cab idled at the curb.

I didn’t ask the price. I yanked the door open and slid in, the seatbelt cutting across a few bruises on my shoulder, I couldn't care less about the pain.

“St. Bridget's Hospital,” I rushed the words. My voice sounded like someone else’s.

The driver glanced at me in the mirror. Then he stared down at the IV tape on my wrist, then my bare feet.

He didn’t ask questions. Perhaps he had seen cases like this multiple times. He pulled into the traffic.

I stared out the window as the city blurred past. My phone was clutched in my hand so tight my knuckles were white.

Tiffany was the only one I could trust at this point, she was my strongest witness against Sarah.

Only she could tell that I would never harm her.

The cab took a sharp turn and my head slammed against the window. I didn’t even flinch.

“Almost there,” the driver said quietly.

I nodded. Ignoring the dizziness that rose from the bang.

For the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed, something other than fear was in my chest.

Hope.

The driver pulled up to the front of the hospital. I didn’t wait for the cab to fully stop.

I was out of the car and moving, my bare feet slapping against the cold tile floor. People stared at me like I was out of my mind.

I must have looked insane, with an IV tape still on my wrist, a hospital bracelet on, my hair a total mess, everything screamed crazy.

But I didn’t care. I cut through the lobby, ignored the reception desk calling after me, and took the elevator straight up to the ward where they said they were keeping Tiffany.

My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

I pushed through the double doors to the wards and the smell of disinfectant hit me again. The lights were softer here, the beeping too. Room 214. I walked towards it in steady strides. I opened the door and stepped in.

Tiffany was sitting up in bed.

Her face was pale, and there was a bandage across her temple, but her eyes were open. And the second they landed on me, something in them shifted.

For a second I could see fear, then confusion. Her eyes followed my every move, like she was looking at a stranger.

I ignored the sharp feeling in my gut

“How are you feeling?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. I took a step closer, careful, like any sudden movement might startle her.

Tiffany blinked slowly, like she was trying to place me. Then she managed a weak, crooked smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“My head hurts like hell,” she said, and tried to make it sound like a joke. “Feels like someone’s trying to drill through it.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That sounded like her. Even hurt, she was trying to joke.

I sat in the chair beside her bed.

“Yeah, I bet it does,” I said. I smiled back faintly at her, “But you’re okay. That’s what matters.”

She nodded, but her eyes never stopped studying me. The confusion in them was getting worse,

There was a long pause. The machines beeped between us.

Then she tilted her head and asked, very quietly, “And who might you be?”

The question hit me like a slap. I froze.

“What do you mean, Tiff?” My voice cracked on her name. “It’s me. It’s Len.”

Her brow furrowed. She looked at me like I’d spoken in another language. “Len?” she repeated, testing the word. “I... I don’t think I know you.”

Before I could answer, the door opened behind me.

A doctor in a white coat stepped in, glancing between the two of us with a practiced, polite smile.

“Oh, Ms. Thornhill, I see you arrived,” she said to me. “We were just hoping to go over a few things with you. Would you mind stepping out with me for a moment?”

I didn’t move at first. My eyes were still locked on Tiffany, searching her face for any sign that she was lying, that she was joking, that she remembered.

But I found nothing.

I stood up slowly, my legs unsteady under me. As the doctor guided me out, I looked back one last time.

Tiffany was already looking away, like I’d never been there at all.

And my mind was racing with questions that had no answers.