The drugs were already working.
I pressed one arm against my gut and bit down hard, pulling myself upward.
Every movement sent a knife twisting through my abdomen.
My fingers had just curled over the window ledge when someone grabbed my ankle.
My mother's shriek tore through the room behind me.
"Somebody stop her! She's trying to run!"
She lunged and locked both hands around my ankle.
I lost my balance and fell from the wall. My right arm hit the ground first.
A white-hot crack of pain shot up from my forearm.
Broken.
The world went black at the edges. I lay facedown on the concrete, unable to move.
My mother walked over and looked down at me.
"Tried to run, did you? Broke your arm for your trouble."
She crouched beside me, and there was something almost smug in her voice.
"I told you. Pay up early and you wouldn't have to suffer like this. But you never listen."
"Now look at you. Broken arm, no gold, and a hospital bill on top of it."
I lay on the ground, my voice shaking so badly the words barely held together.
"Mom, Hal is dying..."
"Enough!"
She stood up and brushed the dust off her hands.
"You've cursed him once, you've cursed him twice. Are you ever going to stop?"