Through the haze, I saw my dead father standing in the doorway. He cursed me for being worthless—for throwing my life away on a piece of trash.
No. I can't die.
If I die, Derek and his family take the payout and live like kings.
I bit through my lip, using the pain to stay conscious. I dug my fingers into the cracks between the tiles. My nails bent and broke. The agony shot straight to my heart, so bad I wanted to vomit.
But I kept crawling. Inch by inch.
Blood dragged a long trail across the floor, like a road of despair.
Finally, I reached the phone. The screen was smeared red, and my trembling fingers dialed my younger brother's number.
"Alex?"
"Ryan… save me…"
I managed to gasp out the address before everything went black. In that last second, my eyes locked onto the basin of ice—still not fully melted.
When I opened my eyes again, harsh white fluorescent light made me squint. The smell of disinfectant hit my nose.
I was still alive.
"Alex! You're awake!"
Ryan lunged toward me, eyes red, a crumpled critical condition notice still clutched in his fist.
"The doctor said half an hour later, and even God couldn't have saved you."
His voice cracked. Tears streamed down his face.