Chapter 6

Kaylynn took the heavy metal award from Everett. She hesitated, her face a perfect picture of reluctance. "Everett, I... I can't. It's too cruel."

"You're too soft," he chided, his voice laced with a strange, possessive fondness. He took her hand, placing it firmly around the base of the trophy. "She hurt you. She needs to learn that there are consequences."

Two of Everett's guards grabbed Charlotte, forcing her to her feet and holding her left arm out, pinning it to a sturdy wooden table. Her good hand. Her surgeon's hand.

Charlotte didn't struggle. She stared at the man she once loved, the man who was now orchestrating the end of her life's work, and felt nothing. The fire of her rage had burned out, leaving only a cold, dead ash. There was a strange peace in the emptiness.

Kaylynn raised the award. Her eyes met Charlotte's, and in them, Charlotte saw pure, unadulterated hatred and triumph.

The metal came down with a sickening crunch.

Pain, blinding and absolute, shot up Charlotte' s arm. A low grunt escaped her lips, but she didn't scream. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

She looked down at her hand. It was a mangled mess of broken bones and blood. Her career was over.

Everett watched, his face impassive. He dropped the now-dented trophy onto the floor with a loud clang. "Let's go."

They left her there, in the dark, with the wreckage of her hand and her life.

Somehow, she got a taxi back to the hospital. She didn't feel the pain in her hand. The only pain was a gaping wound in her chest where her heart used to be.

She heard the sound before she saw it. A low, keening wail coming from Julianne's room. It was Barbara.

Charlotte burst through the door.

The ventilator was silent. The line on the heart monitor was flat. Julianne was gone. Her skin was already cool to the touch.

"They came back," Barbara sobbed, clutching Charlotte. "After you left. They pulled the plug."

Charlotte held her mother, but no tears came. She was hollowed out, a vessel of grief too vast to be contained by tears.

They moved in a daze, making the arrangements. The funeral was small. Just the two of them. They dressed Julianne in her favorite dress, the one she was going to wear to her art school orientation.

As she was gently brushing Julianne's hair, Barbara noticed her hand, now crudely splinted. "Charlotte! What happened?"

"It's nothing," Charlotte said, her voice flat.

"Nothing?" Barbara cried, her voice cracking with fresh pain. "They did this to you, didn't they? Those monsters."

A single tear finally escaped Charlotte's eye, tracing a path down her numb cheek.

They had Julianne cremated. They took the small, heavy box of ashes and buried it in a quiet cemetery, next to Charlotte's adoptive father. They placed her art school acceptance letter in with the ashes. A dream turned to dust.

Back at the hospital, as they were clearing out Barbara's room, a young intern-one Charlotte had mentored-came to see them. She looked nervous, her eyes darting around. She pressed a can of powdered milk into Barbara's hand.

"You both look so tired," the intern stammered. "You need to keep your strength up."

She fled before they could thank her properly.

Exhausted and running on empty, they mixed the powder with warm water. Charlotte took a sip. It tasted strange. Chalky. Wrong.

Just then, Kaylynn appeared in the doorway, a smug, predatory smile on her face.

"Enjoying your drink?" she asked.

The intern, who had been lingering in the hallway, looked terrified and ran.

"What did you do?" Charlotte asked, a new, cold dread creeping up her spine.

"Oh, a little something to remember Julianne by," Kaylynn said, her voice a triumphant purr. "I thought it was a shame to let all that good calcium go to waste."

She held up a small, empty urn. An exact replica of the one they had just buried.

"You see," Kaylynn said, her smile widening into a grotesque grin. "I had her ashes switched. You buried an empty box. Your precious daughter... you just drank her."