His Prisoner Bride

Lucy's P.O.V I didn't hear the people screaming behind me. I couldn't. My legs moved on their own, carrying me down the hospital corridor as if they knew where to go even though my mind had stopped functioning. I almost slipped. The floor was slick with blood. There was blood everywhere. On my shirt. My hands. My face. Even my hair was stained red. I ran faster, fighting the urge to close my eyes and pretend none of this was happening. If I could just shut my eyes long enough, maybe when I opened them, I would be somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where Simon was still alive. But this wasn't a nightmare. It was real. My legs finally gave out when I reached the emergency room. I stood frozen outside the doors, staring through the glass. There he was. Simon. My Simon. The man who had promised me he would never leave my side. He lay motionless on a stretcher as doctors and nurses rushed around him. His face was pale. There was blood smeared across his clothes, and his arms hung limply at his sides. He looked nothing like the Simon I knew. The Simon who laughed too loudly at his own jokes. The Simon who would call me at midnight just to tell me he couldn't sleep. The Simon who had once held my face in his hands and promised me that nothing in this world would ever take him away from me. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed my arms. "Miss, you can't stay here." "No." I fought them. "No! Let me go!" "Miss, please!" "I need to be with him!" The nurses dragged me backward as the emergency-room doors swung shut. "No!" I lunged toward the doors, but they were already closing. And then I saw it. The stretcher disappeared from view. So did Simon. One of the nurses placed a paper cup into my trembling hands. "Please, drink some water." I stared at the cup. I couldn't understand why she was giving it to me. My mind wasn't there anymore. My fingers loosened. The cup slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Cold water splashed over my bare feet. I looked down. Bare feet. I hadn't even realised I'd lost my shoes. The cold jolted through me. And suddenly, everything came rushing back. The blood. The ambulance. Simon. The emergency room. The screaming. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a nightmare I could wake up from. Simon was dead. The realization tore through me. A broken sound escaped my throat. I dropped to the floor. "No..." My hands shook violently as tears spilled down my cheeks. "No, no, no..." I pressed my palms against my face, but the tears wouldn't stop. I sobbed until my chest hurt. Until breathing became painful. People gathered around me. Some stared. Some whispered. Some looked at me with pity. Maybe they thought I was crazy. They were probably right. Because nothing about me felt sane anymore. The man I loved was dead. And I had no idea why. … "There was no pulse by the time I got there." I stared at the floor as I said the words for what felt like the millionth time. "There was no pulse." "I know." Isobel paced across the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "But I still can't understand why Simon would do that to himself. He never seemed depressed. Not even once." It was the first time I'd seen Isobel without makeup or perfectly styled hair. She looked exhausted. Broken. Nothing like the confident woman who always seemed to have everything under control. Daniel sat silently on the couch. He hadn't said much since we'd arrived. He simply stared into the distance, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. Simon had been his best friend. I couldn't imagine what he was going through. "Is anyone even listening to me?" Isobel suddenly snapped. Daniel's head lifted. "Isobel, can you be quiet for a second?" She stopped pacing. "We weren't there when Simon needed us the most." His voice cracked slightly. "I can't stop thinking about that." He swallowed hard. "We were his friends. We should have known something was wrong." "Daniel…" "No." He shook his head. "I don't want to hear that everything is fine because it isn't." His eyes glistened. "The best thing we can do now is find out what happened. We need to get to the root of this. Something pushed Simon to that point." He looked down, blinking rapidly. "And whatever it was... we need to know." Silence settled over the room. My phone chimed. I reached into my bag and pulled it out. Dad. “Good morning, princess. I just wanted to check up on you. I'm so sorry about Simon. The news threw me off balance. I know you must be feeling down right now. I just wanted to let you know that Lisa and I will always be here for you. Call me when you are free.” I read the message twice. Then a third time. My throat tightened. Dad was still at the hospital with Lisa. My nine-year-old sister. My little girl. She had been diagnosed with kidney failure only days ago, and now she lay helpless in a hospital bed, waiting for a treatment we couldn't afford. Life had never been particularly kind to my family. But this felt cruel. Far too cruel. "How's your sister?" I looked up. Daniel was staring at me. "She's still in the hospital." "And?" "Treatment hasn't started." Isobel's eyes widened. "What? Why?" I hesitated. "They said she needs a kidney transplant." Neither of them spoke. "The hospital quoted us nine hundred thousand dollars." Silence. Daniel's eyes widened. "Nine hundred thousand?" I nodded. "Where are you supposed to get that kind of money?" "I don't know." The words came out barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, you don't know?" Daniel stood abruptly. "Lucy, you can't just sit here and do nothing." "I know." "No, I don't think you do." His voice softened. "There has to be something we can do." Isobel nodded immediately. "I can call my siblings. Maybe they can contribute something. Daniel can ask his family too. If we all put something together, we could raise at least half before the week is over." She turned to me. "Then maybe the hospital can start treatment." I stared at her. She was already kneeling in front of me. "Lucy, please." I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I didn't know how to explain that I was tired. Not just physically. I was tired in a way sleep couldn't fix. "I appreciate this," I whispered. "But I don't want you guys going through all that stress for…" "Oh, please, Lucy." Daniel cut me off. "We're not asking you." His voice was firm. "We're telling you." I looked at him. "The point of having friends is being there when things get ugly. So let us be there." My eyes burned. Isobel squeezed my hand. "Whatever we have to do, we'll do it." She smiled weakly. "Everything is going to be okay." I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But lately, whenever someone told me everything would be okay, something else went horribly wrong. Still, I nodded. "Thank you." I finally stood. "I should go see Dad and Lisa." Daniel nodded. "Do you want me to come with you?" "No." I forced a smile. "You both need some rest. I'll be fine." Neither of them looked convinced. "Thank you. For everything." Daniel stood and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Anytime." I hugged him back. A second later, Isobel joined us. For a brief moment, surrounded by the two people who had refused to let me fall apart alone, I felt something I hadn't felt since Simon died. Safe. It didn't last long. … By the time I stepped outside, the cold wind hit me hard. I wrapped my arms around myself. I'd forgotten my coat. Of course I had. My mind had been so consumed by Simon that I'd barely noticed what I was wearing. I raised my hand and flagged down a cab. As the car pulled away, I leaned my head against the window and stared blankly at the passing streets. Everything looked normal. People walked. Cars moved. Shops opened. Life continued. How could the world keep moving when mine had stopped? By the time I arrived at Precious Life Hospital, it was noon. I pushed through the entrance. The familiar smell of antiseptic immediately filled my lungs. I stopped. A strange ache settled in my chest. I'd been here before. Years ago, Dad had rushed Mum into this very hospital after she suffered a stroke. I remembered him running through those same doors. I remembered the panic in his eyes. And, most of all, I remembered the first time I'd ever seen my father cry. Not a tear. Not a sniffle. He had sobbed like a broken man. Because Mum hadn't survived. I still remembered her lying on that hospital bed. Cold. Motionless. Gone. And now Lisa was lying somewhere in this same building. It felt like déjà vu. Like fate was dragging my family back to the same nightmare. I walked toward the reception desk. The receptionist recognised me immediately. Her smile was gentle. Too gentle. The kind people gave when they already knew you were hurting. "Good afternoon, Miss Hayes." "Good afternoon." Her eyes moved over my face. "How are you doing today?" "I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter. "Thank you." I hesitated. "I came to see my sister. Lisa Hayes. Room fourteen." "Of course." She nodded. "Do you know where the room is?" "Yes." I started to walk away, then stopped. "Actually..." She looked up. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course." I lowered my voice. "Do you know how she's doing?" The woman's expression changed. "Lucy..." "Please. I just want to know if she's getting better." She sighed softly. "I'm not a doctor, so I can't tell you much. But from what I've heard, her condition is critical." My stomach dropped. "Because of her age?" She nodded. "She really needs that transplant." I forced myself to nod. "Okay." I turned away before she could see the tears gathering in my eyes. Where was I supposed to get nine hundred thousand dollars? How was I supposed to save my little sister? I walked down the familiar hallway. Room fourteen. I knocked softly. No response. I pushed the door open. The sight inside nearly broke me. Dad sat on a small stool beside Lisa's bed. He looked exhausted. His shoulders were slumped. His face was pale. He looked like he'd aged ten years in a matter of days. Lisa lay motionless beneath the white sheets, fast asleep. Machines surrounded her. A thin tube ran beneath her nose. Her tiny hand rested beside her body. She looked so small. Too small to be fighting for her life. "Dad?" My voice was barely a whisper. His head lifted. For a moment, he simply stared at me. Then his entire expression changed. Relief washed over his face. He stood and walked toward me. I barely had time to react before he pulled me into his arms. I buried my face against his chest. And for the first time that day, I let myself cry. Dad held me tighter. Neither of us said a word. We didn't need to. We were both thinking about the same thing. Lisa. And the terrifying question neither of us dared to ask aloud. What if we couldn't save her?