Days passed.
Isabella lay in bed. The ceiling was up there somewhere but she couldn't see it. Light came through the window but it had no shape.
Her thoughts, though — those were sharp.
Julian's laugh kept scratching at the inside of her skull.
*She's just a blind little cripple. What the hell is she gonna do?*
Over and over. Like a song she couldn't turn off.
The doorbell rang.
"Sis — it's me!"
Sara.
Sweet voice. The kind that used to make Isabella feel safe.
Now it made her sick.
"Come in."
Soft footsteps down the hall. Her perfume hit the room before she did — way too strong, like she'd put it on in the car.
"God, you look awful. When's the last time you ate?"
A hand touched her forehead. Isabella's skin prickled. She wanted to slap it away. Instead she sat still and let the fingers brush her hair back.
Three years of practice. Sitting still while people touched her like she was furniture.
"I'll get you some water."
Footsteps faded toward the kitchen. Isabella heard a cabinet open, the faucet run, ice dropping into a glass.
A minute later, a glass was pressed into her hand. Cold against her fingers. Condensation already forming.
She brought it close to her face. Tilted it just enough to catch the smell.
Bitter, but barely. Most people wouldn't catch it.
But she knew that smell now.
Her heart kicked hard.
She let her hand wobble.
The glass slipped.
Crashed on the floor.
"Oh my God!"
Sara's voice went high. She sounded worried. She sounded exactly the right amount of worried.
"Are you okay?"
"Sorry. My fingers just — I couldn't hold it."
"Stay still. I'll clean it up."
Sara left to get a broom.
Isabella reached down.
Her fingers found the broken pieces spread across the marble. She touched three, four edges. Found one about the size of her thumb. Curved. Sharp at the tip.
She picked it up.
Slid it into her sleeve.
The edge cut her finger on the way in. Blood rose warm and fast.
It hurt.
Good.
---
The front door opened.
Dress shoes on marble. Steady rhythm.
Julian.
"Isabella."
His steps came toward the bedroom.
Sara's voice floated from the hallway.
"Babe, she dropped her glass."
Babe.
Right there. In this house. Out loud.
Isabella stopped breathing for a second.
Julian walked in. The air in the room changed when he did — heavier, tighter, like the walls moved in half an inch.
"Your pills haven't gone down this week."
Quiet.
"Eye drops too. Untouched."
He stepped closer.
"Why'd you stop?"
She said nothing. Her heartbeat was so loud she was sure he could hear it.
He laughed. That same low one from behind the wall.
"Oh."
A pause.
"So you figured it out. That's why you stopped taking them, huh?"
Her chest caved in.
"What...?"
He leaned in close. She felt his breath against her lips.
"You can't see me," he whispered. "But I see all of you."
His hand grabbed her chin. Squeezed.
"You're mine, Isabella."
His thumb pressed into her cheek. Hard enough to leave a mark.
"I can break whatever I want. Who's gonna stop me?"
His hand left her face. She heard him straighten up. Adjust his cuffs. Like he'd just finished checking something off a list.
Inside her sleeve, her fingers wrapped around the glass. The cold edge bit into her palm.
She held on. Tighter than she'd ever held anything.
---
Julian stepped back.
She heard him reach into his pocket. A small click — a plastic cap coming off.
A syringe.
"Alright, Isabella."
His voice went back to soft, like a switch got flipped. Like nothing just happened.
"Let's get some sleep. You'll feel better."
He moved toward her. She felt the air shift near her arm. The needle was close.
She swung.
The glass shard caught his hand between the second and third knuckle. Deep enough to stick.
"Fuck — !"
The syringe hit the floor.
They both went for it.
The bed slammed sideways. Julian caught her first. Shoved her down onto the mattress. His weight crushed the air out of her chest.
"You stupid — "
His hand found her throat. Pressed down.
Air stopped.
Her legs kicked. Her nails scraped his wrist. The glass shard was gone. She couldn't find it.
Black spots filled what little vision she had left.
The door opened.
Sara walked in.
She didn't hesitate. Crossed the room, picked the syringe off the floor, and crouched beside the bed.
"Isabella."
Her voice was ice. There was nothing sisterly about it anymore.
"You're gonna lose feeling real soon."
The needle went into her arm.
Cold liquid pushed through the vein. It felt heavy and wrong, like something her body was trying to spit back out.
Her body gave up before her mind did. Arms dropped. Legs stopped. Her jaw went slack.
"Hurry," Sara whispered. "Cameras come back on in six minutes."
Julian nodded.
A match. That dry scrape of sulfur on cardboard.
The curtain caught first. The flame climbed the fabric fast, like it had been waiting.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
Her throat started burning.
She coughed. Couldn't stop.
Julian stood over her.
His shadow fell across her face. She couldn't see his expression, but she felt him looking down.
"Babe."
His breath was close. One last time.
"I loved you, Isabella."
He said it like he meant it. That was the worst part. The voice was the same one from their wedding, from their first apartment, from every morning he handed her the pills and kissed her forehead.
Three years. Same voice. Same man.
A short laugh.
Then his footsteps crossed the room. Fast now.
The door shut.
The lock clicked.
From the other side, she heard Sara's heels moving fast down the hallway. Then the front door. Then nothing.
They left her.
---
The fire moved fast.
Heat bit into her skin from every direction. The bedsheets caught first, then the headboard. The smoke got thick — heavy and black, pressing into her lungs like wet cloth shoved down her throat.
She coughed until her ribs hurt. Couldn't stop. Every breath pulled in more smoke.
Isabella dragged herself off the bed. Hit the floor hard. Her elbow cracked against marble that was already warm.
She crawled. Hands and knees. One arm barely working from the injection. Toward where she thought the door was.
The handle was hot. She pulled. It didn't move.
Locked from the outside.
Her fingers scraped against the floor.
"Julian..."
Her voice tore.
"Sara..."
Tears ran down her face and mixed with the smoke until everything burned the same way.
Something cracked above her. Part of the ceiling. Embers rained down onto her back.
She screamed.
The pain didn't matter. The scream was for everything else.
"I'll kill you — both of you — I'll kill you both!"
Her throat ripped open around the words. She screamed until she couldn't make sound anymore.
The walls glowed orange. The fire had eaten through the curtains, the dresser, the bedframe. It was everywhere now.
Isabella pressed her forehead against the hot marble.
"I want to come back," she whispered.
Smoke filled her mouth.
"I want to come back and make them — "
A beam fell. Three feet away. Sparks exploded across the floor.
"Please... let me come back..."
Her fingers curled against the stone. Nails cracking.
The heat was inside her now. She couldn't tell where the fire ended and her body started.
"Let me... do it again..."
The fire swallowed the room.
And then — nothing.