Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul

deep in my bones. It was a chill that had nothing to do with t

reath of the thugs, the glint of the knife, the sickening crunch

ir faces impassive, watching as my world was torn apart. They watched it happen. They

the gut. They didn't just orchestrate it; they witness

my side. The incision where they' d taken my kidney burned with a furious, de

s were back, a low murmur from the family waiting room down the h

said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "No witne

he scholarship? The dean called. He expressed his sympathies, b

were already moving on,

er voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need a reason why

you thin

stable. Or maybe... maybe we can hint that he was involved in something shady. T

with destroying my dream; they were going to destroy my

plain everything. People would feel sorry for us, for having to deal with all this. It

ess. Tragic downfall. She was scripting my life a

y. "I'll make a few calls. Plant a few seeds.

ears Eleanor had bandaged my scraped knees, praised my drawings, and called me her "special boy." Was

come so dispo

h a gentle knock, but with a sudden, ja

ue you were attacked

olved with a local gang!

crophone, had pushed their way into my room. They were l

e pain was too much. I could only sta

talk!" a nurse yelled, ru

arm around Sarah, comforting her. She met my eyes for a fraction of a second. There was no ap

oor. She turned to me, her face a mixture of pity and outrage. "I

I

had thought of everything. They had a story for the police, a story for the school, a

over. The humiliation wouldn't have to be endured. The thought of

doctor came in t

urgeon who specializes in complex hand reconstructions is unavailable until the end of the week. And the ne

y care. Probably on Eleanor's instructions. Keep me h

I didn't protest

et them think the

lock was one second closer to General Peters

ndure the whispers and the lies. I

. It wasn't the hopeful strength of an artist. It was something harder, sharper. The