My Dying Heart, His Cruel Vows

Jamie POV:

"We didn't do anything!" one of Kiley's friends stammered, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She just… she just started coughing up blood!"

Elijah's eyes fell to the dark stain on the grass, then to my pale, blood-smeared face. His brow creased, and for a split second, an undeniable flicker of alarm crossed his features. He took an unconscious step toward me.

"Elijah!" Kiley's voice was sharp, laced with panic. She rushed to his side and grabbed his arm, her grip desperate. "Don't fall for it! She's faking it!"

He stopped, his gaze shifting to her.

"She's just angry I got the necklace," Kiley sobbed, her words tumbling out in a rush of practiced accusation. "She's trying to ruin my birthday! She's always trying to get your attention, always playing the victim!"

Elijah stared at me, his expression shifting. The brief flash of concern was gone, swallowed by a wave of suspicion and disgust. He looked from Kiley' s tear-streaked face back to me, lying pathetic and broken on the ground. His jaw clenched.

He believed her. Of course, he did.

He was silent for a long moment, the only sound Kiley's theatrical sobs. Then he spoke, his voice chillingly calm.

"You want attention, Jamie?" he said, his eyes as cold and dead as a winter sky. "Fine. I'll give you attention."

He turned to his head of security. "Tie her up. Hang her from the cherry tree."

A collective gasp went through the small crowd. The cherry tree. He had planted that tree for me on my twentieth birthday, promising to pick fresh cherries for me every summer for the rest of our lives.

Even the hardened bodyguard hesitated. "Mr. Peters, hanging her upside down… for too long, it could be dangerous."

Elijah's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "If she dies, she dies," he said, his voice utterly devoid of human feeling. "It would save me the trouble."

Two men hauled me to my feet. I was too weak to resist. They dragged me to the tree, its branches now bare in the late autumn air. They tied a thick rope around my ankles and threw the other end over a sturdy limb.

Then they pulled.

My world flipped upside down. Blood rushed to my head with a dizzying, painful force. My temples throbbed, and my eyeballs felt like they were about to burst from their sockets.

Through a red-tinted, inverted haze, I saw the party continue. I saw Elijah lead Kiley back to the dance floor, his arm securely around her waist, whispering in her ear. They were a portrait of perfect love, framed by my personal hell.

The pain was excruciating. The pressure in my head was unbearable. Time stretched and warped, each second an eternity of agony and humiliation. I hung there, a grotesque party decoration, while the man who once promised me the world danced with my replacement.

I don't know how long I was there. A day? A night? When they finally cut me down, I was barely conscious, a broken thing. They threw me back in my room like a sack of garbage.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and fever. The cancer inside me, aggravated by the abuse, raged with renewed vigor. I was vomiting blood more frequently, the pain in my abdomen a constant, gnawing fire.

In a moment of delirium, lost in a fevered dream, I thought it was five years ago. I thought he still loved me. I fumbled for my phone and dialed his number.

He answered on the third ring.

"Elijah," I whimpered, the sound small and childish. "It hurts. Everything hurts."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, his voice, thick with sleep and something else I couldn't identify-something dangerously close to concern. "Jamie? Where does it hurt?"

His voice, colored with that old, familiar gentleness, was like a bucket of ice water. I was instantly, brutally awake. The dream shattered, leaving behind the cold, sharp edges of reality.

He wasn't my Elijah anymore. He was Kiley's.

"I… It's nothing," I stammered, my heart seizing in my chest. "I'm sorry. I dialed the wrong number."

I hung up before he could reply, burying my face in my pillow as sobs of shame and despair wracked my body. I finally cried myself to sleep, aided by a handful of painkillers.

I was jolted awake by a cascade of icy water.

I gasped, sputtering, my wet hair plastered to my face. Kiley stood over my bed, an empty bucket in her hand, her face a mask of furious indignation.

"How dare you?" she shrieked. "How dare you call him in the middle of the night? He was with me! He belongs to me!"

She ranted and raved, her voice shrill. "He doesn't want you anymore! You're nothing! A pathetic, desperate hag!"

She finally stopped, a cruel, vicious smile spreading across her face. "You know what? You're obviously lonely. Let me get you some company."

She walked out. A moment later, a man I'd never seen before walked in. He was heavyset and greasy, and he looked at me with a leering, predatory grin.

"Kiley said you were looking for a good time," he grunted, advancing toward the bed.

A primal fear I hadn't felt since the night Corine died shot through me. "Get away from me," I croaked, scrambling backward until my back hit the headboard.

He lunged.

Adrenaline surged through my exhausted body. I fought. With a strength born of pure terror, I shoved him away, scrambled off the bed, and ran.

I ran barefoot and frantic, my thin nightgown clinging to my wet skin. I burst out of the room and ran straight into a solid wall of muscle.

I crashed into Elijah's chest.

I looked up, my breath catching in my throat, and met his dark, unreadable eyes.

"What is going on?" he demanded, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

I opened my mouth to explain, to tell him what Kiley had done, to beg for his help.

But Kiley was faster. She burst out of the room behind me, tears streaming down her face, and launched herself into Elijah's arms.

"Oh, Elijah!" she wailed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "It's horrible! I came to check on her, and I found her with that strange man! She… she tried to bring a man into our house!"