The first thing she noticed was the smell.
The smell of disinfectant. Pungent and sterile, it burned her nasal cavity and tore at the edge of her consciousness.
No. This isn't heaven. This isn't hell. This is… she recognized the ceiling. Three years ago, Sabrina had brought her here, saying it was a top-tier private clinic that could "repair scars." She looked down at her arm—no scars. No trace of the acid's streaking. She jerked her hand up and touched her face. Smooth skin. Complete.
She went back to that day. Back to before her face was disfigured.
Chloe suddenly opened her eyes.
A blinding, bright, round light shone directly on her from above. It was a surgical light. To her left, a stainless steel tray was piled high with chillingly gleaming metal instruments.
Her wrists and ankles were bound. The leather straps dug into her skin.
She lay on the operating table.
A man wearing a surgical mask walked towards her, holding a syringe in his gloved hand.
Chloe's heart didn't just beat; it exploded in her chest. A cold, numbing fear gripped her. The room. The light. This feeling of being bound and helpless.
That was the day. The day her life was ruined.
She's back.
She was reborn.
The images of the funeral home—Sabrina's malevolent smile, Adrian's fallen body, the cold glass of the coffin—exploded in her mind. He wasn't dead. She could still save him. She still had a chance.
But first, she must save herself.
"Chloe, don't be afraid."
That voice. That sickly, sweet, sinister voice slipped into her ears.
Chloe turned her head. Sabrina stood by the table, wearing a light blue nurse's uniform, a kind smile on her face. The same fake, concerned smile she wore in Chloe's nightmare.
Sabrina's confession at the funeral home, the memory of Adrian's blood splattered on the marble floor—flashed through her mind. The fear subsided, replaced by a cold rage that sharpened her senses.
The masked doctor handed Sabrina a syringe. "You can administer the sedative now, just as we discussed."
Chloe's gaze locked onto the needle. That was it. An anesthetic, laced with something that would wear off halfway through the surgery, leaving her both conscious and numb to each cut of the scalpel.
Sabrina approached, the needle gleaming under the operating light. "It'll be over soon," she said softly, a wicked, secret excitement gleaming in her eyes.
Chloe forced her body to tremble. She made her breathing shallow and rapid. She recalled the image of the fragile, innocent girl she once was.
"Sabrina," she sobbed, her voice trembling perfectly. "I'm so scared. Please. Can you untie one of my hands? I just... I need to hold onto you."
This is a pathetic request. The kind of request Chloe used to make.
Sabrina's smile widened. She liked it. She basked in Chloe's dependence and vulnerability. To savor the moment more fully, to feel Chloe's desperate grip as her face was disfigured, she hesitated for only a second.
“Of course, darling,” she said, reaching out to untie the leather strap on Chloe’s right wrist. “I’ll do anything for my best friend.”
Sabrina leaned closer and inserted the needle into the vein in Chloe's left arm. "Hold on tight. It'll be over before you even realize it."
Chloe moved when the needle was only an inch away from her skin.
Her right hand shot out. She grabbed Sabrina's forearm and pulled hard with all her might. Caught off guard, Sabrina lurched forward, the syringe slipping from her hand and rolling to the floor. Chloe didn't stop. Her left hand was still bound, but with her right hand she grabbed a stainless steel tray—scalpels, tweezers, and scissors clattered to the floor—and smashed it against the doctor's face.
The man groaned, covered his face, and staggered backward.
Chloe grabbed the edge of the tray with her right hand and slammed it against the restraints on her left wrist. The leather strap snapped, and her left hand was finally free.
She rolled out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold linoleum floor. She picked up the syringe that had rolled off the bed; the needle gleamed coldly in the light.
She walked over to the terrified doctor, a red scratch on his face, huddled in the corner trembling like a leaf. "Drag her onto the table," she commanded, nodding in Sabrina's direction. "Now."
The doctor trembled like a leaf, but did as he was told, dragging the unconscious, heavy body of Sabrina onto the operating table.
Chloe acted swiftly, binding her former best friend with leather restraints and tightening the buckles with a cold satisfaction.
Then, she picked up the syringe.
She looked down at Sabrina's calm, unconscious face. It was the face of the monster that had destroyed her.
Without any hesitation, Chloe inserted the needle into Sabrina's arm and pushed the piston down.
