Page 73 of Blood Money

And a terrifying fear hit me.

One shaking hand went to my abdomen. Myflatabdomen.

“Mom?” I asked, panic setting in. Tears spilled from my eyes that wouldn’t stop. The accident came back in high-speed flashes—the horrific sounds, the pain, the terror.

“The doctor said you should still be able to have more babies later,” she murmured as she smoothed my hair.

“What? No! Mom!” My heart was racing so fast, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. That baby—my son—was my only link to Vittorio, the last piece of him I had. With the realization that I’d be doing everything without the father of my baby, I’d been scared, but I already loved my baby boy, and I hadn’t even met him.

She bit her lip as she glanced over her shoulder. A nurse came bustling in, quickly joined by others. She was talking and fussing over me, but all I could hear was a steady tone that didn’t quit. A cast encased my left arm from my hand to just before my elbow, and I used it as a weapon as I swung.

“Get away from me!” I shouted, half out of my mind.

Everyone was talking at once, but I could only stare at what used to be as I cried ugly, heart-wrenching sobs.

God knew how much time had passed before I tapered off into shuddering breaths and stared blankly at the ceiling. I hated the smell in there. I hated the stark room and lack of warmth. I was cold.

So incredibly cold.

My teeth chattered, and I shook violently.

My mom piled blankets on me as she called for the nurse again.

They gave me something that made me feel floaty, and my eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore. Everything faded away until my world was a different place.

In that strange plane, Vittorio was there. He kissed me softly, and his eyes were full of the love he made me believe. But then he grew angry and shoved me away.

“How could you?” he demanded.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I frantically replied, holding on to his shirt.

“You killed him!” he spat at me. The hatred on his face ripped my heart out.

“Vittorio,” I pleaded as I reached for him, but he floated away from me until he disappeared.

“No! Don’t go!” I screamed, but it was too late.

I woke up to my mom trying to calm me down. I was given more medicine, and I faded away again.

This time, there was nothing but blackness. And I never wanted to leave it.

I sat in the chair in my room, blinking as I gazed out the window at the sky. White, fluffy clouds drifted by, uncaring of the lifelessness within me.

“Look, Kendall,” my mom cheerfully said as she set a take-out bag on the portable table. I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look her way. “It’s your favorite.”

I was vaguely aware of an aroma, but it turned my stomach.

She rolled the table so it spanned over my lap, then lowered it, but still I stared through the glass. I made no move to touch the food she presented. I didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Honey, you need to eat. The physical therapist said you need to build your strength back up. I can help you, if you want.” She cut the food and lifted a fork to my mouth, but I didn’t acknowledge her. She nudged my lips with the warm food, but I didn’t budge. I wasn’t hungry.

A frustrated sigh escaped her. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured.

“Leave her be.” My father’s quiet Irish brogue came from behind me.

“She has to eat,” Mom brokenly said.

“You can’t force her,” he soothed before I tuned them out. I knew they were talking in hushed tones, but I ignored them.

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