Although Dr. Edgeway appeared to continue speaking, I couldn’t make out anything else he said. Absently, my hand came to rest on my abdomen. My now-barren abdomen. “I can’t have children,” I whispered in disbelief. I suddenly hoped and prayed that at any moment I would wake up from the nightmare, even if it found me back at Mendoza’s compound.

“You can’t carry a child, but you can still have a child of your own.”

“What?” I questioned absently.

“Annabel, look at me,” Dr. Edgeway instructed. When I finally met his gaze, he said, “You still have your ovaries. With today’s modern fertility treatments, you can have your own child via a surrogate. It isn’t impossible, especially for someone from your background.”

I know he didn’t intend it, but it sounded like Dr. Edgeway thought that I should be grateful for the wealthy background I came from. Allegedly it would be my salvation—the only way I could ever have a child of my own flesh and blood. But at that moment, money, status, or prestige didn’t mean shit. It sure as hell hadn’t saved me from Mendoza. And there was no way financial wealth could reassemble the fractured pieces of my life. There were some things that money simply could not buy.

“Annabel, you will heal and move on.”

“But I’ll never have life within me,” I challenged.

He shook his head slowly. “No. You won’t.”

I felt like I was being pummeled with new waves of grief and loss. After all I had endured, now I had survived only to learn I could never carry a child?

Why?

For the thousandth time I asked myself that one question.

Why?

Why me? Why did bad things keep happening? It struck me in that moment that while I might’ve physically escaped from my nightmare, I would be forced to continuously endure the emotional aftershocks. I became so overwhelmed with dark and desperate feelings then that I didn’t think I could keep my head up. “I’m very tired. I think I need to rest.”

“I’m sorry, Annabel. If I could have gotten to you sooner and under different circumstances, maybe I could have repaired the tear without having to remove the uterus.”

Even though he was sincere, I didn’t want his apology. Nothing he could say or do could ever make things right for me. No one could. At that moment, I realized I had traded one hell for another.

From this day forward, I would never be anything more than a shameful burden to my parents. As a woman who had been defiled by criminals, I would be considered damaged goods. Preston would never date or marry me, and for that matter neither would any other man in our social circle. Even if someone did, I couldn’t bear the picture-perfect family for him. No political propaganda commercial would want to feature a couple along with their surrogate.

There would be no going back to the life I had had before. The future that spread out before me was desolate and bleak. As I closed my eyes, I wished that Rev had never found me, and instead had allowed me to die on the floor of Mendoza’s compound like the worthless trash I was.

SIX

REV

When Breakneck came out of Annabel’s room, he was ashen. Since he had been in there a long time, a surge of concern that something had gone wrong overwhelmed me. Grabbing his arm, I asked, “Is she okay?”

His agonized eyes met mine. “No, she’s not.”

My heart clenched. “Wait, did she—”

“After her examination, I had to explain to her the severity of her injuries and the course of action I had to take.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I had to do a partial hysterectomy.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“She isn’t taking the news very well.” He shook his head. “In fact, it’s devastated her.”

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Annabel was going through. Having children was something so intertwined with being a woman, and now she had lost that. If she was someone who had always wanted kids, I’m sure the news was a complete blow on top of everything she was already dealing with. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

Breakneck nodded and then walked farther down the hallway. When I opened the door, Annabel didn’t even look up. Instead, she kept staring straight ahead. “Hey,” I said softly as I walked over to the bed. A chill shuddered through me at the visual evidence of how much the news had affected her. It was like seeing an entirely different girl. Not that she didn’t deserve to be a basket case after what she had been through, but it was certainly alarming.

“I thought you might want to talk,” I said.

A single tear slid down her cheek. “I just want to be alone.”

“Okay. We don’t have to talk. But why don’t I sit here with you for a while?”

“Whatever,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

With an uneasy feeling, I sat down in the chair beside the bed and kept quiet, but it was a long time before she fell into a fitful sleep. When one of the nurses came in to check her vitals, she brought back a sedative. Once the liquid seeped from the IV into Annabel’s veins, she finally found a peaceful sleep. Then it was my turn to toss and turn in the chair.

In what was becoming our on-the-road ritual, Bishop shook me awake the next morning. Sometime during the night, a roll-away bed had been brought in, but I didn’t even remember moving from the chair. Rubbing my eyes, I asked, “What time is it?”

“Little after seven. I brought you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, man.” I pulled myself into a sitting position. As I glanced around the room, my gaze focused on the rumpled sheets of the empty bed. “Where’s Annabel?”

“She wasn’t in bed when I got here. Pretty sure she’s in the bathroom.”

A prickly feeling like nicks from barbwire went through my chest. I strode across the room and pounded on the bathroom door with my fist. “Annabel? Are you all right?” When there was no reply, I pounded harder. “Annabel, answer me!” I commanded in a voice harsher than I meant to use.

“Leave me alone, Rev,” came the weak reply.

As if I possessed Superman’s X-ray vision, I knew exactly what was transpiring behind the door. If I strained my ears, I could hear the almost inaudible dripping of blood. Taking several steps back, I ignored Bishop when he asked, “Rev, what the hell are you doing?”

Instead, I focused all the strength I had on the obstacle in front of me. At a full gallop, I lunged at the door, busting the lock and sending it swinging open. The scene before me was just as I had imagined. Annabel sat hunkered down on the toilet with a crimson river pooled around her. The razor blade she’d used to slit her wrists lay in the midst of the carnage.

“No, no, NO!” I shouted as I barreled forward into the room.

She lifted her battle-worn green eyes to mine before sadly shaking her head. “Don’t you understand? They’ve taken everything from me—my innocence, my will to live . . . even my ability to bear children.” Tears streamed down her face. She brought a blood-streaked hand up to swipe them away. “I have nothing left.”

Jerking my T-shirt over my head, I ripped it down the center, then began to tear it into wide strips. “This is not fucking happening. Not on my watch.”

When I knelt down beside her, she attempted to scramble away from me. “Don’t you dare save me! This is my choice, dammit. I finally have a choice, and I’m ending it.”

I shook my head at her while I continued tearing the fabric. “I won’t let you do that, Annabel.”

As I reached for her bleeding wrist, she shot up off the floor, trying to escape me. A feral gleam burned in her eyes before an agonized scream escaped her lips.

“You fucking bastard! Stop being a hero. Just let me die!”