Ninety-Nine Times, Then No More

June' s shock quickly turned to fury. "You hit me!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "After everything I've... after everything I've been through!"

She almost said something else. A slip of the tongue she quickly covered. Her eyes, wide and venomous, darted down to the letters I was clutching to my chest. I saw a flicker of recognition, and then panic.

"What are those?" she demanded, lunging for them.

"Get away from me," I said, turning to leave the room.

She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into the sleeve of my coat. "Give them to me! Those are mine!"

We struggled. I was weak from my injury and the emotional drain, and she was fueled by a desperate, wild energy. She shoved me hard. I lost my balance and fell backward, tumbling onto the floor. The precious bundle of letters flew from my grasp, scattering across the priceless Persian rug.

"No!" I cried, scrambling to gather them.

June stared at the scattered pages, her face pale. She recognized our mother's handwriting. She knew what they were.

"That sentimental old fool," she hissed. "She wrote everything down."

Before I could react, she did something I never could have imagined. She snatched a lit candelabra from a side table and tossed it onto the ancient, dry rug.

Flames erupted instantly, licking up the edges of the carpet and crawling toward the letters.

"June, what are you doing?" I screamed, horrified.

She just smiled, a twisted, ugly expression. "Cleaning up loose ends."

She ran out of the room, and I heard the heavy oak door slam shut, followed by the sickening sound of a key turning in the lock. She had trapped me.

The room filled with thick, black smoke. I choked, my eyes streaming. I scrambled to the door, pounding on it with my fists. "Let me out! Somebody, help!"

There was no answer. I could hear her on the other side, just waiting. Waiting for the fire to do its work.

I was going to die here. In my mother's room.

Suddenly, I heard a man's frantic shouts from downstairs. "Elena! Elena, where are you?"

It was Chase.

A moment later, I heard June's voice, full of fake terror. "Chase! Help! Elena... she's gone crazy! She set the house on fire! She's trying to kill me!"

I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. He must have seen the smoke pouring from under the door.

I heard him call my name, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn't place. Anger? Worry?

"Chase! I'm in here! She locked the door!" I screamed, my voice hoarse.

The door shuddered as he threw his weight against it. On the other side, June was sobbing. "Chase, don't go in there! It's too dangerous! She's trying to trap you too!"

After a final, splintering crash, the door flew open. I stumbled out, coughing and gasping for air, my clothes singed, my skin smarting from the heat. I was still clutching the handful of letters I had managed to save.

June immediately ran to Chase, burying her face in his chest. "She's insane! She said if she can't have you, no one can! She tried to burn us all alive!"

Chase's face was a thunderous mask of rage. He strode forward and grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "Is this what you've been reduced to? Arson? Because I'm divorcing you?"

In his violent grip, the remaining letters fluttered from my hand to the floor. "The letters..." I gasped, trying to reach for them. They were all I had left of her.

He didn't understand. He thought they were love letters. From another man, maybe. Something I valued more than his precious June.

His face contorted with a vicious, jealous rage. He bent down, scooped up the scattered pages, and with a flick of his wrist, he threw them into the heart of the fire.

"NO!"

A scream ripped from my throat, raw and full of a pain so absolute it felt like it was tearing me apart. I tried to run toward the flames, to save that last piece of my mother.

Chase caught me, his arms wrapping around me like a steel cage. "Stop it, Elena! Have you lost your mind? It's just paper!"

"You don't understand!" I sobbed, fighting him with all my strength. "You don't understand what you just did!"

He held me tight, his voice a furious hiss in my ear. "I understand perfectly! You're jealous! You can't stand that I'm with June!"

I stopped struggling. I went limp in his arms. I watched as the edges of my mother's last words curled, turned black, and vanished into ash. Everything inside me went silent. The last connection to her, gone. Destroyed by the man I once loved, to protect the woman who killed her.

Ninety-nine acts of cruelty. That's what I had told myself. But this... this was beyond counting. This was an act of pure, soul-destroying evil.

He must have felt the change in me, because his grip loosened. I stepped back, away from his touch. I turned to face him. My vision was blurry with tears, but my mind was crystal clear.

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. The sound was sharp and final in the crackling silence.

He stared at me, shocked. For the first time, he seemed to see the absolute devastation in my eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, of something like fear, crossed his face. His heart, for the first time, felt a pang of emptiness.

"Elena, I..." he started, his voice suddenly hesitant.

"I hate you, Chase Vargas," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I wish I had never met you. I hope you and she burn in hell together."

My tears were flowing freely now, hot and endless. He took a step toward me, his hand half-raised as if to comfort me.

A small, pathetic cry came from the doorway. "Chase... I'm scared..."

June.

His head snapped toward her, his protective instincts taking over. He hesitated for only a second, his eyes torn between us. Then he turned his back on me and went to her.

"It's okay, June. I'm here. I'll get you out," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

He scooped her up and carried her down the stairs, away from the fire and out of the house. He left me standing there alone in the hallway of my burning home, watching my past turn to cinders.

This city. This man. This life. It was all a ruin.

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I walked down the stairs and out the front door, not looking back. I got in my car and drove.

That night, I was on a plane to Europe, watching the lights of the city shrink below me until they were nothing but a faint, distant glow.

I never wanted to see it again.