Page 61 of Barbi and the Villain

A whooshing sound explodes in my ears from the pressure of the fall.

Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad daughter. I’m sorry I never met your expectations and always disappointed you.

PomPom, forgive me for not taking care of you better. You, too, BonBon—even if our acquaintance was brief.

A scream is wrenched out of my throat, my arms flailing all around me as my heart threatens to explode in my chest.

There is no more time for regrets as I fall through the mist, heading straight for the ground.

But there is one certainty above all.

There is no Prince Charming to save me.

There is no Dark One to torch the world in his search for me.

The books lied.

A green patch of land appears in sight, but I have no time to process the visual stimuli before I hit the ground.

I blink against the wave of pain that assails me. I am flat on my back, my gaze toward the blue sky with a tint of gray.

My limbs are in an awkward position, one leg beneath me, the other bent the wrong way. My shoulders are bent at an angle, and based on the blood I note as I glance down, I assume the bone has broken through flesh.

Deep breaths.

I am not dead.

How? I don’t know.

But my body is absolutely wrecked.

I try to move my hands. The pain is astounding, and I cannot stop myself from crying aloud as I pull my arms into a normal position. There are, indeed, quite a few broken bones that are protruding through my skin.

Despite the pain, I manage to pull myself into a sitting position.

Confusion swirls in my mind, but at the same time, there’s an odd calm that settles over me as I jolt my arm with enough strength, the bones align into position. I do the same for the other one, not surprised to see that they easily go back into place. Even better, the skin slowly mends until no blemish remains.

Odd. But I’m not complaining.

I move my attention to my legs. If my arms could mend, then my legs should as well.

I pull my right leg from under me, placing it straight on the ground as I push my weight onto my bones so they realign. Somehow, that happens seamlessly.

What sorcery is this?

The left leg is a bit more tricky. My tibia is broken in two, one side sticking out of my skin. I punch the protruding side down until it meets the other one. Like a puzzle, I put my body back together until I’m back to normal again—or as much as I can be.

Once the pain has subsided, I get up, feeling my limbs whole again but also feeling them…foreign. As if they’re mine but not mine anymore.

A deep sense of disappointment envelops me—something akin to having my heart torn out of my chest. There’s longing. A bleeding hole inside my chest that’s hemorrhaging invisible blood.

Where am I? What am I?

And how the hell am I alive?

I fell from a distance of over a thousand feet. By all accounts, I should not only be dead, but there should be little left of me intact. Instead, here I am. Alive. Healed.

How?

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