I looked down at my own skeletal fingers.
I didn't want to live anymore.
But watching this family shatter around the hospital bed, watching their unbearable, gut-deep refusal to let her go, a wild, reckless thought took root in me.
Since none of you can bear to lose her. Since I have nothing left and no will to go on—
Then this life of mine, I'll live it for her.
I pushed open the door.
The crying stuttered to a halt.
Every pair of eyes snapped to me.
I ignored them all. I walked straight to the little girl and crouched down in front of her.
I reached out with a hand riddled with needle marks and caught her flailing fingers.
"Melody."
I lowered my voice.
The room went dead silent.
The man's head jerked up. His gaze locked onto me, sharp as a blade.
His pupils contracted. His entire body went rigid.
The girl stopped struggling. Her small fingers traveled along the back of my hand, up my arm, and finally settled on my face.
She touched my tears. They were ice-cold.
"Mommy? Is that you?"
Her voice was tiny, trembling, desperate with hope.
"It's Mommy." I gathered her into my arms. "I didn't leave."
The girl clung to my neck with everything she had and burst into sobs.
"You're so cold! Melody will warm you up!"
Her small palms pressed against my cheeks. They were so warm.
I lifted my gaze and met the man's eyes.
He stared at me. Shock, suspicion, and the faintest flicker of relief churned behind his expression.
He didn't expose me.
He rose to his feet and murmured something to the stunned elderly relatives beside him.
They covered their mouths, tears streaming, and one by one filed out of the room.
"Come with me."
He pointed at me, his voice tight.
The unlit stairwell.
The man leaned against the wall and struck a cigarette to life, but he didn't smoke it.
The flame guttered and flared, casting hard light along the edge of his jaw.
"What do you want?" His voice carried the weight of a man accustomed to absolute authority.
"A meal and a bed." I leaned against the staircase railing, gasping for air.
Those few steps had drained half the strength I had left.
"Name."
"Beatrice Henson."
His eyes narrowed as he looked me over, head to toe.
"Ivan Stephens."
"Olivia just passed. Melody has a severe congenital heart defect. She can't handle the shock."
"When you lower your voice, you sound about halfway like Olivia. Similar build, too."
Ivan crushed his cigarette against the rim of the trash can.