Elena’s POV
My head hit the drywall from behind. The impact shook my teeth.
I slid along the dirty linoleum floor of the kitchen and my vision blurred for a second. I tasted blood in my mouth.
"Look at me." The voice was gravelly. I looked up. Marcus was standing over me.
He was enormous, wearing a leather jacket that smelled of cigarette smoke and bad whiskey. He covered the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Please," I panted. I raised my hands, my palms up. "I don't have it."
Marcus kicked the chair next to me. It flew across the room and smacked against the counter, snapping a leg off.
"Forty thousand, Elena. Your father said he had a system. He said he couldn't lose then he lost."
"I know," I whispered. My jaw throbbed. "He isn't here. You know he isn't here."
"I know he ran," Marcus said. He hunched down, his face inches from mine. He had a scar running through his eyebrow. "Cowards run. That's what they always do. But debt doesn't leave. It stays with the family."
He grasped my chin, his fingers digging into my skin as he turned my face to the side to study the bruise discoloring my cheek.
"You have forty-eight hours," he said. The man's voice was low and flat. "Get the money. Or we stop breaking furniture. We start breaking bones. I will start with your fingers. Then I will go find your sister at the hospital."
My blood ran cold. "Leave Mia out of this. She is dying."
"Then she won't feel it when I pull the plug," he said.
He wouldn't dare. Would he?
He released my face. He got up and went to the door. He didn't turn around. He slammed the door hard enough to crack the plaster around the frame.
I sat on the floor and couldn't move. My hands shook uncontrollably. I touched my lip; it was swollen.
I looked around the apartment. It was destroyed. The table was overturned. The few plates we owned were shattered on the floor. My father's gambling slips were scattered everywhere like confetti.
I needed to get out. I grabbed my backpack and shoved a change of clothes inside. I didn't lock the door; it was broken anyway.
I ran down the four flights of stairs. I reached the street, where the cold November air hit me. It bit into the thin sweater that I was wearing. I pulled my hood over my head to hide my face. I walked fast toward the subway.
I had only seven dollars in my pocket. That was it.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and floor wax. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead. It was a sound that drilled into my skull.
I walked past the reception desk. I kept my head down. I didn't want them to stop me. I didn't want to talk about the overdue bill.
I reached Room 304.
Dr. Evans was coming out. He saw me, and stopped. He looked tired. He had a clipboard held up against his chest.
"Elena," he said. He looked at my face. His eyes widened slightly. "What happened to you?"
"I fell," I said. "How is she?"
Dr. Evans didn't buy the lie. But he didn't push it either. Sighing, he turned to the chart. "She had an episode an hour ago. Her heart rate spiked. Her blood pressure dropped. We stabilized her. But her valve is failing, Elena. It isn't a slow decline anymore. It is a cliff."
I felt the floor tilt. "How long?"
"Without the surgery? Days. Maybe a week."
I felt like Marcus had punched me again. "A week?"
"The board met this morning," Dr Evans said quietly. "They are discharging her on Friday if the down payment isn't made. We can't keep her in the ICU pro bono. I tried. I really tried."
"You can't kick her out," I said. My voice rose. "She will die."
"I know," he said. He looked miserable. "I am sorry. You need two hundred thousand dollars. You need it by Friday."
Then he walked away.
I stood there. Friday was just four days away.
I walked into the room. Mia was asleep. She looked grey. The skin was translucent. I could see the blue veins in her eyelids. She was seventeen but she looked like a child.
I sat down in the plastic chair beside her bed and took her hand, which was cold.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out. The screen had cracked and Lila, my best friend's name, showed. She was also the daughter of Silas Vane. She lived in a world I only saw on television.
"Hello?" I answered.
"El! Oh, my god, you finally answered." Sounding happy, Lila sounded safe. "I'm at the café. You are twenty minutes late."
"I cannot make it," I said, my voice cracking.
"What? Why?" She paused. "You okay? You sound weird.”
I looked at Mia, then at the steadily beeping machines. I thought of my apartment door, with its broken lock. I thought of Marcus coming back.
"Lila," I said, "can I come over to your house?”
"My house? The Estate?"
"Yes, for the weekend. You said you needed help with your closet."
"Yes!" she squealed. "Please come. Daddy is away on business until tonight. It's so boring here with just the staff." The driver was already on his way to pick her up, and she could swing by the hospital.
"No," I replied quickly. I didn't want the driver to see me here. I didn't want anyone to ask questions. "Just pick me up on the corner of 5th and Main."
"Okay. See you in ten."
I hung up and squeezed Mia's hand one last time.
"I will fix this," I whispered, "I promise."
~
A black SUV came to pick me up. It was the first I had such luxury in a long time. Lila loved the vanilla cream scent and the car smelt like it.
Lila hugged me the instant I got in. She pulled back and heaved a gasp. "Oh my god. What the hell happened to your face?"
I swallowed. I had to find a lie, quickly. But what do I say?
“Don't even think about lying to me!” Lila's voice dropped.
Shit! What do I do now? Her cold eyes glared at mine and I gulped down hard.
