Chapter 1

The ceiling had a crack in it. It didn’t look deep so she shouldn’t be too worried about it crumbling and falling onto her motionless body anytime soon. Though, by the way she had been treated recently, if the ceiling really did fall on her, she would be blamed. Yes, even in her death. No, no one would believe that the ceiling had simply rotted through and had chosen this day to fall apart. Everyone would think that she had simply sent evil psychic waves towards that small, shallow crack and somehow, made it fall on her. It was all very clever as she had made it seem like an accident. But, in reality, it was suicide.

Leah closed her eyes, sighing. She had learned not to struggle against the bonds strapping her securely to the hard bed an hour ago when the doctors in this psychiatric ward had finally had enough of her noise and came in, armed with a syringe filled with a powerful sedative, effectively knocking her out for an entire day. This was her second day here. Oh what had she done to deserve this? She flexed her hands, trying to put some circulation back into it. The bonds, naturally, were too tight. Everything about this place was restraining. Even the doctors, the researchers, the psychiatrists were very controlled. Unyielding. There was a pain in the small of her back that she longed to rub away. It was probably because the caretakers had forgotten to put padding onto the metal cot she was tied to. She could feel the hard slab digging into her tailbone. She couldn’t stand much more of this. She wasn’t crazy. She didn’t… She shook her head furiously, trying to dislodge the gruesome image from her mind. She didn’t murder her own father. She knew that as a fact. Her father’s true murderer had dumped that responsibility onto her shoulders. Put her in this position. And got away. Scot free.

The door opened, pulling Leah out of her thoughts. A doctor came in. He wasn’t holding anything in his arms, especially not a clipboard. That was how she knew he was a doctor and not anything else. Researchers and psychiatrists are the ones with the papers and the pens—along with the stoic questions.

“How are we today, Leah?” The question was very quickly becoming a daily greeting. One as insignificant as a “hello, how are you?” No one really cared how you were. It was simply polite.

“Fine…” She replied simply out of politeness as well.

“Great, so it’s time for your bathroom break. A shower, some food. Does that sound good?”

“Excellent…” In her head, possibilities started to swirl. If only they would let her… “Doc?” She croaked, making herself sound even weaker than she felt.

“Hmm?”

“Could I possibly…write a letter to my sister? Please? I promise not to break anything or scream and yell anymore.”

After a brief consideration while watching my face, he nodded reluctantly, proving that her exaggerated innocent face had worked, “Alright, come along now. The nurse outside will take you to the shower room. A piece of paper and a pen will be sitting on that desk there when you get back.”

She came back, thirty minutes later, wet hair freezing the top of her head. She hardly cared, though, because there was her freedom sitting there—on the desk in the form of a blank sheet of paper and a black ink pen.

She sat down on the cold, metal chair, picked up the pen and started writing. Pen flying across the page, quickly filling up the white with her tiny script. Please let this work.

-The Next Day-

“Leah, you’re free to go. Have a good life. To be honest, it would be great if we didn’t have to see you again.”

She was free. It had worked. The brief crest of triumph quickly faded as she stepped out onto the gravel road. This was only a small worry compared to the one she had to face now. First things first, though. She needed a ride back home. Even though her sister had enough power to free her—being an influential figure in the political world—she did not care enough to bother picking her up. So, she had to hitch a ride back home. Walking along the empty road, she let her mind wander as her eyes searched tirelessly for signs of a vehicle.

“I love you.” Mike whispered. The rain fell softly around them. They were soaked, but to Leah, it was warm and comforting. The rain felt wonderful against her flushed skin. This was it. He was the perfect man for her. Caring, kind, compassionate, calm. As his head bent to seal his vow with a kiss, a scream pierced through the night. “Someone help! He’s dead!” The pair sprang apart and ran towards the source of the scream. There was blood. Lots and lots of blood. The rain did nothing to wash it away from the walls. The man. Who was the man?

She dimly remembered the scream that had burst forth from her throat, “Daddy!” Her father. It was her father. Who did this? “Mike! Help me!”

“He’s dead. There’s nothing we can do.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s gone.”

“I know he’s gone! Why are you so calm?”

Mike didn’t say a thing. He stood there, water dripping from his hair. She couldn’t see his eyes.

“Did you do this?”

No response. He just stood there.

“Oh God!”

It was then that she had stumbled away from him, fighting the urge to retch. Oh the betrayal. It killed her heart. It stabbed straight through and twisted.

Michael…I thought you loved me.

A loud honking snapped Leah out of her agonizing memory. “Hey! You suicidal?! Crazy woman!” The car sped by. Cars! Hurriedly waving at the next oncoming vehicle, she managed to make the driver stop and let her in.

“Thank you so much.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

-Home-

“Mommy? I’m home!” Where was everyone? Leah closed the door behind her as she stepped into the threshold, looking around. It was silent. The house was never this quiet. Was everyone out for lunch? Where was her sister? “Mommy? Claire?”

Ascending the stairs and seeing the expensive, Ming dynasty vase broken on the floor was the first indication that something was wrong. Her family had not gone out for lunch. The vase was the most important possession of her mother’s, and she would never have left the pieces lying there on the floor if it had broken. Feeling the first thread of fear, she made her way silently to the master bedroom. Please let them be alive at least. She couldn’t lose anymore of the people she loved. Insanity would be a better option. Please.

She reached out a trembling hand to push the door open. As she stepped inside and saw the bed, she stumbled back, a gasp catching in her throat. “Mother!” She cried hoarsely as she stared at the mess of blood-soaked sheets. Please no—“Mother!” With a huge mental push, she willed herself to approach the bed and touch the lump in the middle of the bed. It was still warm. Leah shook a slick shoulder and a moan came forth from the sheets. She was alive! Leah leapt towards the phone and dialed 911, fingers made slippery from the blood, all the while a chant of “don’tdiedon’tdiedon’tdiedon’tdie” spiraled through her mind.

-At the hospital-

The emergency room was chaos. There was no order. Everyone tried to jump in front of the other for medical attention. There was so much death. One could feel the desperation.

Her mother was immediately carted through the throng of waiting people and into a room. Leah followed hastily after it.

“Please, miss, wait outside. She’ll be taken care of.” A nurse stood in her way, holding her back.

“No! I’m her daughter. You have to let me see what they’re doing to her. Please!” She begged trying to get past the nurse and back to her mother’s side.

But the nurse held firm, “No, I’m sorry miss, hospital rules. Just sit down over there and you can see your mother when the doctor’s done.”

Beaten, Leah slumped and moved dejectedly towards one of the hard, plastic seats lining the hallway.

“Miss…Scott?” A doctor in standard green scrubs walk out a while later.

“Yes?”

“You may go in now.” He said softly, looking at her sympathetically though Leah knew he faced death on a daily basis.

“Thank you...”

Upon entering the room and scanning the walls, her heart sank. There were too many life support machines crowded around the bed. Was her mother going to make it through the night? Leah dragged a chair towards the bed and sat down, staring helplessly at her mother. Her face wasn’t even visible. Her entire body seemed to be wrapped in thick, stark white bandages. A shiver ran its way down her spine. Her mother looked like a mummy. A mummy was dead. No longer alive. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she fought the thought of her mother never moving again. The last thing she saw, the last thing she felt before her death would be the sharp point of a knife and the searing pain of the assault. First her father…now her mother. What had she ever done to deserve this? What had her parents ever done? They were good people. Generous, selfless people who would give up a part of themselves just to save another.

She reached out a small hand to put a hand over the thick, white trunk that was supposed to be her mother’s arm as the first few tears slid down her cheeks, “Oh, mother….” She whispered.

AN: Yes, so this is a new story I’m working on. The plot’s all outlined and everything so things should go quite smoothly. For you romance readers out there, yes, it starts a little slow and the main male character doesn’t come in until later, but for now, I hope you like Leah!