Chapter 3

3: 3

At my words, Piers and Peggy both froze, their faces blank with shock.

"An emotional-expression disorder? How could—"

The hardness went out of Piers.

He pulled me into his arms, his whole face soft with pity.

His voice carried guilt.

"Ivy, I'm sorry. I was too slow, I never noticed you were sick, I let you suffer for nothing—"

"Give me another chance. I'll treat you right, I promise."

I sat there in the embrace I hadn't felt in so long.

But I couldn't feel any warmth from it anymore.

There was nothing left inside me but barren ground.

Every wound had already been dealt, and finding out now was simply too late.

Over the next few days in the hospital, Piers barely left my side.

Every day he brought slow-simmered chicken soup, carefully peeled apples for me, cut them into small pieces, arranged them on the tray.

Now and then he brought fresh flowers, just to coax a smile out of me.

"Ivy, don't worry. I'll get you better, I swear—"

More than once, I nearly wavered.

But forgiveness isn't the work of a single moment.

Every time I pictured him and Peggy kissing to win that prize.

I felt sick to my stomach.

Every time I remembered him saying he wished it had been Peggy who saved him, the cold went straight through me.

That night.

I turned over and over, unable to sleep.

Then the door was kicked open.

A pack of strange men swarmed in.

In the dark I tried to call out for Piers, but a rough, heavy hand clamped over my mouth.

"Miss Pruitt, we hear you're like some fake person. So on a bed, will you still roll your eyes back and lose it like a real human?"

Terror swallowed me whole.

The unbearable images from years ago surfaced again in my mind.

I fought with everything I had.

But the difference in strength was too great, and I couldn't break free no matter what.

"Cry, Miss Pruitt. Cry and I'll let you go!"

But even when I wet the hospital pants, losing control of my bladder.

I still couldn't cry.

At the edge of despair.

I wanted to throw myself against the wall and end it.

Just then, with a sharp click, the room's overhead light snapped on.

Piers and Peggy stood side by side in the doorway.

The girl pointed at the wet leg of my pants, laughing so hard she was shaking all over.

"Sis, you finally wet yourself from fright. Looks like my method really worked."

"Soon you'll be just like a normal human. Hee hee."

Piers nodded along.

"That's right, Ivy. You finally reacted. Looks like all our effort wasn't wasted!"

In that moment I forgot to breathe.

I stared at the two of them, unable to believe it.

So this whole terror had been nothing but a farce the two of them had carefully staged.

Feeling how dead my gaze was.

Peggy stepped forward, still smiling, and added,

"Sis, I know you carry trauma inside. I did all this to help you get desensitized."

"Only by facing your fear head-on can you beat the shadow in your heart—"

Piers spoke again.

Perfectly earnest.

"See how good Peggy is to you? Hurry up and thank her."

Everything I'd held down for so long shattered at those words.

I opened my cracked lips and screamed with everything in me.

"For my own good? Deliberately re-creating that nightmare, tearing open a wound that never healed—this is what you two call for my own good?"

Neither of them faced my anger, and neither felt the slightest guilt.

Peggy clapped her hands, excitement dancing across her face.

"Wonderful! Sis, you finally learned to get angry! You finally don't seem like a fake person anymore!"

I was shaking with rage.

Without a moment's hesitation, I swung my hand back and slapped Peggy hard across the face.

The crack of it rang out loud and clean.

The girl's head snapped to the side, and five red finger marks flared up at once on her pale cheek.