I let out a weak, bitter laugh. Of course. Tears blurred my vision as I desperately pressed 911.
“H-hello?” My voice shook.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I—” My body swayed. My fingers trembled as I tried to steady myself against the wall. “I need help. Please... I—”
The phone slipped from my grasp.
The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me whole was the faint voice of the operator, calling my name.
***
Bright lights. The steady beeping of a monitor. The sharp scent of antiseptic. I woke up in a hospital bed. Alone.
A nurse walked in, startled to see me awake. “Ms. Romano, you're conscious! How are you feeling?”
My throat was dry. “How long was I out?”
“You were admitted last night,” she said gently. “The paramedics found you unconscious at home. Do you have any family we should contact?”
Family.
The word twisted like a knife inside me.
I let out a weak, hollow laugh. “No. There’s no one.”
The nurse gave me a sad look but said nothing.
The next morning, after I was discharged, I went home. The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. He’s here. And then I saw him.
Jason. Sitting on the couch like he still owned the place. Legs crossed, fingers tapping impatiently against the armrest.