hat house this morning. Although, it is inevitable the news of their marriage will

r a day in secondary school, she was not a celebrity, model, actress, influencer, nor even a child of a very high profile family, in fact an orphan with no ti

ng. Attentive, she walks towards the car and I immediately took that initial thought back, not as smart - my thoughts were immediately caught off as like a scene from a movie Sabrina was quickly knocked out and stashed inside a small car by

•

hite glare. I blinked a few times, trying to focus through the haze. Everything smelled clea

sped over mine,

can you

le. I turned, finding him already leaning

ill adjusting, slowly letti

, his thumb moving softly over my knuckles.

tempting to sit up, more o

eased me back, his touch gentle but firm

stayed silent, watching me carefully, barely moving a muscle until he was certain I'd passed the doctor's questions

f I'd thought for a second that news of... us would get out this fast,

hand, still resting over mine. "Amir, you

r. I know the risks of being who I am. And by being with me, yo

ut us," I whispered. "Not unti

ossing his face. "Are you sure? He might've be

t seem that way. He was genuinely confused. Panicked, eve

road. I think they got a little... overzealous." He looked down. "Bu

ead, his hand still firmly wrapped around mine.

g. He looked terrified, Amir," I murmured. "I don't think he's the mast

his expression softening just a bit. "Alright," he said finally, looking down at me. "If that's what you want... I should've expected as much

" I asked, l

oom, with the arm chair next to the bed, there is a television opposite the bed and in front of it is a large cloud sofa just adjacent to a big fridge. The floor is covered in a plush rug t

I still make it to the show

close touching something on my I.V, " the doctor says you need rest, you've been pulling all-nighters working I know you want to see the result, I kno

the rest of the sentence, my eyes are h

ear him say bef

•

the fog like a horror movie soundtrack. It's like my body is having a tug-of-war with my mind. My brain's scre

f can't ignore. Finally, I yank myself into consciousness. It takes a second f

ou're pulling it out like it's a nasty weed. My legs are wobbly, and I feel like Bambi learning to walk. I throw on on

nds like I've stumbled onto a scene straight out of a war film, the kind you

ks dark and shadowy, while right... well, it's slightly less ominous but

ror show. I glance into the rooms I pass-each one is an Instagram-worthy set piece, cold and sterile like a mus

reading like an unwanted rash. I know who Amir is-the blood collector, they call him. The name alone sends shivers down my spine. I've hear

I mean, who wants to entertain that kind of darkness? Not me, thank

e, prickling my skin. What in the world is happening in there? A sound of metal clashing sends a jolt through me, and then a shrill scream erupts-t

like I'm crashing a party I wasn't invited to

out. Lohan, his right-hand man, stands over a figure I barely recognize as the homeless guy fro

her instead of whatever sick game is unfolding. His white shirt is immaculate, no stains, no swe

as if we're discussing something mundane, like din