I tried to follow it. Three times. Three times I tried to end everything. And failed. After that I cried until I couldn’t anymore, night after night until my throat burned and my chest felt hollow, and then one day I forced myself to stop. I went to hand rehab for my transplant hand. Simple, right? It wasn’t. It was hell. More than a thousand days and nights, blood and pain, my fingers splitting open, calluses forming and breaking again and again. But I made it. I fucking made it. I got back to where I could stand again.
I kept it from Felix. I wanted to surprise him, wanted him to see that the woman he “loved” didn’t break so easily. Now? I was just glad I didn’t tell him. If he knew… would he have taken both of my hands too? The thought made my stomach twist.
My phone buzzed again. I looked down.
“Your cancellation application has been submitted and will be processed within eight business days.”
Eight days. After eight days, I’d be gone. No name. No trace. Even someone like Felix, with all his power, all his connections, he wouldn’t find someone who didn’t exist.