Too Late, Mr. Mills: Watch Me Leave

Pain. That was the first thing she felt. A throbbing, pulsing ache behind her eyes that made her stomach turn. Her body felt heavy, like it was made of lead, but at the same time, strangely light.

Adriana gasped, her eyes flying open.

She expected to see the sterile white ceiling of the hospital. She expected to smell disinfectant and death. Instead, she saw crystal. A massive, glittering chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling draped in silk. The air smelled of expensive champagne, roses, and a faint hint of sandalwood cologne.

She sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. She looked down at her hands. They were smooth. Unblemished. The IV marks, the dirt, the blood-all gone.

She scrambled out of the bed, her legs unsteady. She caught sight of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room.

The woman staring back at her was young. Her skin was taut, her eyes bright, her hair thick and shiny. She was wearing a silk robe she hadn't seen in years.

Twenty-one. She was twenty-one.

The sound of water running came from the en-suite bathroom. The door opened, steam rolling out.

Everette walked out. He looked younger too. His hair was darker, his face less lined. A towel was slung low around his hips, water dripping down his chest. He looked at her, and for a second, a flash of warmth crossed his features.

"You're awake," he said, his voice smooth. He started towards her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I was worried. Last night was... a lot." He saw the way she flinched, the sheer terror that flashed in her eyes, and his own expression faltered, the smile vanishing. His tone shifted, becoming urgent, almost pleading. "Adriana," he said softly. "Marry me."

The words hit her like a physical blow. The same proposal. The same script.

Adriana jerked back, stumbling away from his touch. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, her skin crawling with phantom sensations of dirt and blood.

Everette froze, his hand hanging in the air. The warmth was gone, replaced by confusion. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate for an escape, a weapon, anything. They landed on the heavy crystal vase on the nightstand. It was a piece of art, sharp and heavy.

She lunged for it. Her fingers closed around the cold glass, and she hurled it at the floor with every ounce of strength she had.

The explosion of sound was deafening. Crystal shards sprayed across the marble floor, glittering like deadly snow.

Everette jumped back, his eyes wide. "Adriana! What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees among the broken glass, ignoring the sharp sting as a shard sliced her knee. She grabbed the longest, sharpest piece. It was cold and heavy in her palm.

She pressed the jagged edge against her neck. The point bit into her skin, a hot, sharp sting. A drop of blood welled up, sliding down her collarbone.

Everette's face drained of color. The confusion was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror. He held up his hands, taking a step back. "Adriana, put it down. Now."

"Don't come near me," she hissed, her voice shaking but her hand steady. The pain was real. The blood was real. It grounded her in this nightmare.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice strained, his eyes locked on the blood trickling down her neck. "Whatever you think is happening-"

"I know exactly what's happening," she spat, cutting him off. She looked into his eyes, the eyes that had looked at her with such contempt in the woods. The eyes that had protected Becky. "I know exactly who you are."

She pressed the glass harder, gasping at the sting, the warmth of the blood flowing faster.

"Everette Mills," she said, her voice ringing out in the silent room. "I, Adriana Guzman, would rather die right here, right now, than ever marry you."

The blood dripped onto the white silk of her robe, staining it red. Everette stared at her, his face a mask of absolute horror, completely trapped in a moment he didn't understand.