He Locked Me in the Dark and Watched Me Die

I didn't protect the one thing she left me…

The next second, a phone rang, sharp and insistent.

Allan glanced at the glowing screen. His spine went rigid.

He motioned for Pauline to keep quiet, then pressed the answer button.

"Mom, what's going on?"

Frances Fox's anxious voice poured through the speaker.

"Allan, where are you and Olivia?"

"Her father just called me. Her health-monitor watch sent out an SOS alert."

I drifted close to the speaker and screamed with every ounce of strength I had left.

"Mrs. Fox, Allan locked me inside the haunted house!"

"Please come get me, please. I'm so scared…"

Allan's gaze drifted toward where I hovered, as though he'd sensed something. His brow furrowed tight.

His fingers clenched around the phone until his knuckles turned white. He forced his voice to stay calm.

"Mom, Olivia's with me. We're on a date."

"Tell Mr. Young not to worry. I'll take care of her."

My heart split open like a raw wound.

I grabbed at Allan's collar, sobbing, my vision blurred with tears as I demanded answers.

"Why are you lying? Tell them the truth!"

"My dad will worry himself sick. I'm all he has left…"

Frances tried to say something more, but Pauline draped her arms around Allan's neck, her breath warm and teasing against his skin.

"You're my boyfriend today. Mention another woman one more time, and I'll get jealous."

Allan hung up without a second's hesitation.

I saw the viewer count in her livestream surging.

Comments flooded in: "This is so wild."

"Pauline is literally a modern-day siren, she's irresistible."

"Pauline, teach a masterclass! I want a new boyfriend every day too!"

Even after hanging up, Allan felt an inexplicable unease gnawing at him.

He gave Pauline a light pat on the hip and pulled up my number.

"Babe, let me just call Olivia to check in real quick."

"She really isn't in good health. I'm worried that—"

The phone barely rang once before Pauline pouted, snatched it out of his hand, and powered it off.

"No calling. You're mine today."

"Besides, doesn't she have hands? If she's feeling sick, she can call an ambulance herself. Why does she need to bother someone else's boyfriend?"

Pauline said it without a shred of shame, then pivoted to dispensing relationship advice to her livestream audience.

"Listen up, ladies. A girl who's sick but calls someone else's boyfriend instead of a doctor? That's textbook manipulation. If you ever run into a situation like that, just have your man turn off his phone and ice her out."

I floated in the air above them, a cold, contemptuous smile on my lips.

Last week, I'd had a sudden flare-up of gastritis. Allan had rushed me toward the hospital in a panic.

Halfway there, Pauline texted him.

"Allan, I accidentally cut my finger. It hurts so bad…"

A photo followed right after.

Pauline's fingers were pale and slender, glistening with droplets of water that left plenty to the imagination. Not a single scratch in sight.

Allan slammed the brakes and left me on the side of the road.

His brow creased with worry as he swung the car around.

"Pauline cut her hand. I need to go buy her some band-aids first."

"Just get yourself to the hospital. You've been dealing with this stuff for years—you're used to it by now. But Pauline's different. She's out here all on her own, and she needs me right now."

At three in the morning, I couldn't get a single ride.

I ended up collapsing on the curb. I had no idea how long I lay there before a stranger found me and took me to the hospital.

What had been a mild case of gastritis had turned into a full-blown stomach perforation.

When I woke up, I cried and demanded to know if he'd stopped loving me.

He knelt at my bedside and swore he would never abandon me again.

In his heart, I was always an afterthought.

But now, I truly didn't care anymore.