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╔⭑-⭒-⭑-⭒-⭑-⭒╗ 𝕻rologue ╚⭑-⭒-⭑-⭒-⭑-⭒╝
The constant tap of her shoelace against the linoleum echoed through the nearly empty waiting room. It was the early hours of the morning; too early for most, too quiet for comfort. Only the receptionist and a young girl occupied the space. Her leg bounced uncontrollably. Her ears rang. Tears blurred her vision. If someone walked by, they might have wondered if she was blinking at all. But given how she looked, that would be the least of their questions.
"Miss. Valentine?" The voice barely registered. She knew someone was speaking, knew she should answer, but her body remained frozen in the worn plastic chair. The cushion had long since given up, and now so had she. "Sadie." The voice came again, softer this time. "Sweetheart?" A gentle hand touched her shoulder. She flinched, her brown eyes snapping up to meet the detective's. His voice was calm, patient. "Would you like to clean up?" Her brow barely moved in response, the officer's calm tone not registering. "They have a pair of scrubs for you to change into." She didn't respond. Her lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes drifted downward to her trembling hands, stained with blood. Her jacket was ripped, pants torn, glass embedded in the fabric like cruel reminders. She should change. But her body didn't move.
"Where are they?" she whispered, voice cracking. The detective exhaled, hands braced on his hips. "They're still in surgery." She said nothing, her gaze drifting again. "Have you been seen by a doctor?" he asked gently.
As if on cue, pain bloomed in her side, and her wrist began to throb. She hadn't noticed until now. When they arrived at the hospital, she'd begged them to check on her parent's first. She could wait. "I'm fine." She muttered. The seat beside her creaked as he sat. His eyes didn't leave her. "Sadie, I need you to be honest with me."
"I am," she snapped, turning to him, her voice raw. "But they're not." He sighed. "I know."
"No, you don't!" she shouted, pushing up from the chair. She paced the floor in a fury, her voice climbing. "You weren't there. You didn't feel the car flip. You didn't see their bodies get thrown. You didn't smell the gasoline all around us!" The tears spilled freely now, her face flushed with rage and helplessness. The detective stood slowly, his chest tight at the sight of her breaking. "They're all I have," she whispered. Then, as if the words broke her, she collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
By the time the sun crested over the quiet town of Forks, Elena and Theodore Valentine had taken their final breaths, leaving their daughter behind.
"The good news is, it's just a sprain. A brace will take care of it." The doctor's voice was calm, routine. "As for your side, the glass came dangerously close to your large intestine, but there's no fatal damage. Still, you'll need to take it easy. No strenuous activity. Bed rest until your next check-up." Sadie sat motionless on the hospital bed, barely absorbing the words. An IV dripped steadily into her hand. Her wrist was braced, and her side wrapped tightly beneath the gown—evidence of the wreck she'd barely survived. "Will she need to stay the night?" asked Arthur, the man from before, standing just off to the side.
