The music swelled. The crowd cheered. I swayed, barely holding myself together, when a shove sent me sprawling. Nathan? Why?
I stumbled into the edge of the bonfire. Fire licked my arm, agony shooting through me.
I screamed.
Someone screamed back—Sabrina. She knelt beside me, panic-stricken. “Oh god! Elena, you’re hurt! We need an ambulance—”
But Nathan shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a small burn. She’ll survive. Consider it payback for hurting you before.”
And Gabriel? He didn’t even glance at me.
No one helped.
I hauled myself away from the fire and called a cab. No one offered to take me to the hospital. No one cared that I was bleeding.
And that was fine. Because this time, I vowed, it’s the last time they ever hurt me.
“It’s good you came when you did,” the nurse said, her hands gentle as she cleaned the raw, burned skin on my arm. “This is a second-degree burn, and honestly… you also needed stitches.”
I didn’t answer. I simply nodded, staring at the white ceiling above, blurred and endless. I remained in the hospital for two more days.
Not a single call. Not a single text. No “Are you okay?” No “I’m sorry for what happened.”
Nothing. Not even enough concern to pretend they cared.