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Chapter 4
A scorched face, warped, swollen, unrecognizable, was suddenly shoved into the camera's view.
"Oh my god, what is that?"
"Jesus Christ, is that even human?"
"I feel sick. It's like a corpse came back from the dead."
My heart slammed against my ribs. The world tilted. My vision turned into static.
They had no plans to stop.
Phone screens lit up. One by one, livestreams went live. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
"Here she is, folks. Lily Turner. The fallen angel. The washed-up model who tried to murder her sister in a fire, and got burned alive instead. Karma's a bitch."
"She's nothing but melted skin now."
"She deserves it."
A shove came from behind.
I stumbled, then collapsed onto the pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.
My loose clothes tore as I hit the ground, fabric ripping clean down the seams.
Bare arms. Bare thighs. My stomach, my ribs, all exposed under the unforgiving sun and camera flashes.
A sound escaped my throat, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. But no one cared.
That's when it started.
The shaking. Violent, brutal, uncontrollable.
My arms twitched. My legs jerked. My entire body convulsed like I'd been plugged into a socket.
"She's having a seizure! Holy shit, this is gold!"
"Zoom in! Get her face, look at that foam! She's frothing at the mouth!"
I was. I could feel it. The meds were kicking in, hard and fast. I was spiraling out, completely helpless.
Just a broken body on display.
A freak show for the world to gawk at.
Then came the final blow.
A wet warmth spread between my legs. The smell hit seconds later, sharp, acrid, inescapable.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Oh my god, she pissed herself."
"That's disgusting."
The humiliation knocked the air out of me.
I couldn't cry. Couldn't scream.
Couldn't even move.
They clicked and clicked, cameras flashing like I was some kind of roadkill. Like a headline they couldn't wait to monetize.
And then,
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
Jack's voice boomed through the chaos like thunder cracking open the sky.
He shoved his way through the crowd, snatched a camera out of a reporter's hand, and smashed it against the ground.
"Delete every fucking photo! NOW!"
He dropped to his knees beside me, eyes wild. Furious. Terrified.
"Get away from her!" he yelled again, turning on the others. "All of you, get out!"
Then Mom appeared, rushing toward me with a coat in her arms. Her face was streaked with tears and smeared makeup. She draped the coat over me like she was trying to hide the horror from the world.
"Where were security?! How did the press even get in?!" she screamed. "Everyone responsible, fired. Effective immediately!"
And then there was Coco.
Standing off to the side, pretending to look heartbroken as she covered her mouth with one perfectly manicured hand.
"Oh god… you guys are so cruel," she said, voice trembling with fake concern. "Don't post the footage, okay? Please? That's still my sister."
I wanted to laugh.
Or throw up.
You wanted the fame? The crown? Jack's heart?
Fine. Take it.
But why did you have to destroy me to get it?
Everything faded. My body felt like it was underwater, too heavy to move.
Jack leaned over me, gripping my hand like it was the only thing tethering me to this world.
"Baby… baby, I'm so sorry. I should've protected you. I swear on my life, I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Let's get married. Right now. I'll make it right."
I wanted to scream no.
But something else came first.
A hot rush filled my throat, and then blood spilled from my mouth, painting his shirt, his hands, everything.
"Lily?! LILY!" he shouted, panic splintering his voice.
Everything went dark.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard my mother sobbing. Jack yelling for a doctor. Chaos erupting again.
"She was already severely injured," a voice said, calm but grim. "There's extensive internal damage from the overdose. Her organs are shutting down."
"The surgery… there's only a thirty percent chance she'll survive."