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And yet, all I feel for her is pity.

“Family love.” He chuckles one last time before he grabs my jaw, forcing my face towards him. “Now, we’ll leave this place and you’ll follow me quietly. If you try to act smart, I’m going to gut your pretty little boyfriend who’s too unwell to fucking walk, you hear me?”

My head is already nodding before my mind catches up, panic overriding everything else.

“Say it.” He murmurs, almost coaxing. “Say yes to daddy.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” A satisfied smile ghosts across his lips.

“M-my friends are outside; they won’t let me go.” I mumble in a low voice.

“Then you better be discreet.”

Alec and Alina said they’ll wait in the car and give me some privacy, but now I regret leaving alone.

Would they have cared when my own sister didn’t?

My throat burns, a hollow laugh threatening to claw its way out, but it dies before it can form.

Why am I standing here expecting someone to come rushing in and save me?

Why do I keep waiting for it?

I swallow hard, shame coiling tight in my chest. I feel like nothing more than a broken doll, and broken dolls don’t get saved.

They get discarded.

“C-can I say goodbye to her?” The tremor in my voice surprises even him; his brow lifts, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.

“Still?” he scoffs. I nod.

The truth is, I don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left that words can fix.

All these years, she forced me to fix myself when she was the one who broke me.

Broke me enough that the first thing I’m searching for in a hospital isn’t help—it is a scalpel.

Because living is hard.

Because once I step outside, I’ll be trapped in that room all over again, and there’s no escaping it.

My steps are slow as he lets me go, the bed isn’t far and the distance is covered with three quiet, purposeful strides as I stand before her lying form.

“Save yourself, Amara.” I whisper and lean down, wrapping my arms around her in a hug I never really got from her. “Save yourself, because what you sacrificed for you safety was your little sister.”

My eyes sting.

“I will never forgive you.” My gaze drifts to the tray beside her bed. I reach up and gently stroke her cheek one last time.

Then, as I straighten, my hand brushes the tray. My fingers close around the scalpel left behind, and I slip it into my pocket without a sound.

“I hope you were never born.” She murmurs and I nod.

“You’re right.” I straighten, the last thread inside me pulling tight before it snaps, taking a few steps back as he takes hold of my arms again and tugs me outside.

I don’t fight this time.