Chapter 201
Chapter 201:
“Don’t,” Cailin said, flinching away. “Just — is a doctor coming or not? I want to leave p>
“I’ll page one now,” Hilliard said. “It’s done p>
“Good.” Cailin pushed off the wall, ready to go.
“Wait.” Charla’s voice drifted from the room as the door swung open again. It was weak, tremulous. “Cailin p>
Cailin went still. She didn’t turn around. “What do you want, Charla p>
“I’m thirsty,” Charla whispered, now framed in the doorway, leaning heavily on her father. “The nurse isn’t here, and my throat is so dry from the medication. Could you just pour me a glass of water? Please? As a peace offering p>
Hilliard looked at Charla. She looked pathetic, her lips cracked and dry. His gaze drifted to the water pitcher sitting on a tall, somewhat rickety IV stand with an attached tray near the door — right next to where Cailin was standing.
“I’ll get it,” Hilliard said, turning to press the nurse call button on the wall.
𝖣о𝗇’𝘁 𝘮i𝘀ѕ ո𝖾𝘸 r𝗲𝘭𝗲𝘢𝘀𝖾𝗌 𝗼𝘯 gаlո𝗈𝘷e𝗹𝘀.со𝗺
“No, please,” Charla said. “Let Cailin do it. I want to know she doesn’t hate me p>
Cailin rolled her eyes. It was a power play. A final humiliation. Serve me.
But she just wanted to leave.
“Fine,” Cailin muttered.
She stepped toward the IV stand — a lightweight metal unit on wheels, with a heavy ceramic water pitcher sitting precariously on the top tray. She reached up for the pitcher.
Hilliard’s back was turned. He was speaking into the intercom.
Charla watched Cailin, her eyes narrowing. The stand was positioned close to the foot of the bed. She extended her uninjured leg, her foot hidden beneath her long hospital gown, and hooked her toes around one of the stand’s wheels. The locking mechanism was loose — she had noticed it earlier when the nurse was changing her IV and had quietly kicked it free.
As Cailin’s fingers brushed the handle of the pitcher, Charla gave a small, sharp tug. Just enough force to unbalance the top-heavy stand.
The stand tipped.
Cailin heard the screech of metal wheels, then a sudden shift in the air. She looked up.
The unit was falling toward her.
There was no time to think — only to react. She gasped and threw her hands up instinctively, but it happened too fast to dodge.
CRASH.
The heavy steel stand slammed into Cailin, pinning her against the wall. The ceramic pitcher shattered against her shoulder. Metal trays and medical instruments rained down on her. A sickening pop echoed through the room as the full weight of the stand crushed her left shoulder — the one already wounded by the knife.
“Ahhh!” The sound that tore from Cailin was pure agony. She crumpled to the floor as the stand bounced off her and clattered onto its side.
Hilliard spun around, his face draining of all color.
“Cailin p>
He rushed across the room, vaulting over the spilled cart. Cailin was curled on the linoleum, clutching her shoulder, her face ashen and her eyes squeezed shut. Small, breathless sounds escaped her with every exhale.
“My shoulder,” she gasped. “It’s out. It’s out p>