Chapter 12 You Pushed Me Down
"No! Don't!" Caroline's voice broke into a desperate cry, her body twisting against the invisible grip of fear. She clawed at the air as though she could hold on to something—anything—but Alexander didn't even flinch. His eyes cut across her like shards of ice, cold and unyielding, before he turned away without a word.
The door opened in the next heartbeat. Two of his security men stepped inside, their movements brisk and merciless. Caroline fought them with every ounce of strength left in her, kicking, thrashing, trying to wrench herself free. It didn't matter. Their hands were iron, their grip unbreakable. They dragged her across the polished floor, ignoring her screams.
Just before they hauled her past the front doors, she caught sight of the upstairs hallway. Servants moved in and out of a room, stripping the bed, folding linens. Their voices dropped into sharp, cutting whispers.
"That woman doesn't belong in that room," one muttered.
"Disgusting," another spat.
The words sliced through her, leaving her hollow. The cold inside her chest deepened until it felt like steel.
The basement door slammed shut behind her with a heavy, final sound.
She collapsed onto the cement floor, curling in on herself. Somewhere in the shadows, the low growl of dogs drifted across the space—three of Alexander's prized guard dogs. The sound wasn't a greeting. It was a warning.
Her arm throbbed where the wound had torn open again during the struggle. Warm blood seeped through the bandage, the metallic scent hanging in the air. The dogs caught it instantly. Their growls shifted into a hunger-laced whine. In the next breath, they lunged forward, their massive bodies closing the distance. Wet tongues dragged over her skin, teeth scraping against her limbs like a promise of what could come next.
Pain dulled into a numb ache. Caroline didn't even have the strength to scream. Her gaze lifted to the narrow ventilation window near the ceiling. Beyond it, daylight was fading, the sky bleeding into darker shades.
A laugh slipped from her lips, low and without joy. Maybe the dogs would finish her. Maybe tonight. Maybe some other day. It didn't matter. The thought was strangely calm.
She closed her eyes.
Time dissolved. In the dream, there was only cold—endless, bone-deep cold. It was the kind that seeped into marrow, the kind that made breath feel like shards of glass. It was the cold of water, the cold of that night on the docks.
"Caroline..." The voice came from somewhere in the dark, thin and fragile, but achingly familiar.
"Edith! Hold on! The ambulance is on its way!" Caroline's own voice echoed, but she couldn't tell if she was speaking or remembering. The sound surrounded her, pressing in from every side.
"I'm so cold..." Edith's voice weakened, fading like smoke. "In the water... it's so cold, Caroline. Pull me out..."
Water?
Caroline's breath caught. The darkness twisted, pulling itself into shapes. Light shimmered—dim, distorted—until she was standing at the edge of a black lake. Dense trees loomed around her, their branches clawing at the sky. The water was still, its surface swallowing any hint of depth.
"Edith?" Caroline's voice cracked as she scanned the shadows.
"Help me... I'm so cold..." The voice came from the lake's center, drifting over the water.
There—a figure, pale and thrashing, white dress billowing beneath the surface. Edith.
"Edith!" Caroline plunged into the lake without hesitation. The shock hit her like a thousand needles, the cold biting into her skin. She swam hard, arms slicing through the water, but the distance never seemed to shrink.
Finally, she reached her. Her fingers closed around Edith's arm.
The moment they touched, Edith's head turned.
Her face was ghost-white, bloated, eyes nothing but black voids. Her lips were blue, stretched into a smile that was wrong in every way. When she spoke, the voice was no longer hers—it was Alexander's, flat and merciless.
"You pushed me in."
"No!" Caroline's scream tore her awake. She stumbled to her feet, heart pounding, and ran for the basement door.
"Open the door! Open it now!" Her fists slammed against the iron, the sound echoing in the confined space.
A beam of harsh light stabbed through the ventilation grate.
"What the hell is your problem?" The guard's voice was impatient, bored.
Caroline clung to it like a lifeline. "Let me out! I have to save my sister!"
"What?" The guard hesitated.
"Hurry! If you don't open this door now, it'll be too late!" Tears burned down her cheeks. She shoved her arm through the bars, reaching for him. "She fell into the lake! Please! We have to save her!"
The guard jerked back, startled. Then his expression hardened. "What kind of nonsense is this? You're trying to escape."
"It's true! I saw her!" Caroline's voice shook with panic. "I've already lost her once. I can't lose her again!"
"Crazy woman!" His shout was sharp, followed by the splash of water. A bucket of filthy mop water hit the grate, splattering through the opening. It drenched her instantly, the chill slicing through her fevered skin.
The shock snapped her back. It was a dream. Just a dream.
But Edith's face... Alexander's voice... They felt too real, more real than the basement itself.
"Edith..." Caroline wrapped her arms around herself, crouching low. "I'm cold too... so cold..."
"Lunatic," the guard muttered, spitting toward the door before walking away.
Caroline sank to the floor, silent tears sliding down her face. The cold was everywhere now, inside and out.
Her fever climbed. Her head felt heavy, her throat raw. Every swallow scraped like sandpaper. Pain spread through her body, magnified by the heat, her wound pulsing with fire.
Hallucinations came in waves—Edith in a blood-stained dress, crying; Alexander holding Edith's pink diamond necklace; her mother slamming the renunciation papers into her face.
"Water..." Her cracked lips barely formed the word.
She remembered the old sink in the corner. Crawling toward it took everything she had. The dogs watched her, unmoving. They had no interest in prey that was already half-dead.
Her fingers found the damp wall. She traced it until she touched the rusted faucet. Turning it sent a thin stream of water spilling out. She drank greedily, the metallic taste sharp on her tongue, until she coughed.
Hunger followed. Her eyes drifted to the dogs' bowls—fresh meat, carefully prepared. Alexander spared no expense on them. Compared to them, she was worth less.
The thought of stealing from them flickered in her mind. The dogs caught it instantly. Their heads lifted in unison, eyes glowing green in the dim light. She shrank back. The idea died.
She curled up again. Fever, infection—she would die here. Alexander wanted her alive to suffer, but what if he forgot? What if he didn't care?
No. She couldn't die. Edith wanted her to live. She had promised.
She dragged herself to the door, pounding weakly. "Someone... please... I have a fever..."
Silence. Then footsteps.
The guard again.
"I'm sick," she rasped. "My wound's infected. Please... call a doctor. Tell Alexander..."
A pause. Then a laugh. "Fever? Infection? Save it, lady. Mr. Hamilton said you're to reflect down here. Fake illness won't work."
"I'm not faking! Please!" Her voice broke.
"Help you escape? Not happening. Stay quiet or I'll make you regret it."
"I'm not escaping! I'm dying!" Her tears cut grimy tracks down her cheeks.
The footsteps began to fade.
"Don't go! Please!" Her nails scraped against the iron, the sound sharp enough to hurt. "I'm a doctor... I can't die here..."
"A doctor?" His tone turned mocking. "Right. You were a respectable psychologist. Too bad you were cruel enough to kill your sister. This is karma. Enjoy every second."
He left.
Caroline collapsed, the cold seeping deeper. Darkness swallowed her again.
Days blurred. The maids came to feed the dogs. Caroline slept most of the time, waking only to drink. Sometimes the dogs came closer, sniffing at her, sensing the end.
One day she woke to find a dog beside her, its body pressed against hers, sharing warmth.
"Thank you..." she whispered, touching its sleek fur before slipping under again.
Alexander finally gave an order. "Feed her. Don't let her die."
The maid tossed two rock-hard rolls through the grate. "Eat. It's a gift."
Only the dogs' breathing answered.
She peered inside. Caroline lay curled against the dog, her body thin, her skin carrying the faint stench of decay.
The maid screamed.
The door swung open. Alexander stood in the frame, silent. His eyes stayed cold, but something—panic?—flickered there.
She couldn't be dead. Not yet. She had to live. She had to pay.
Then Caroline coughed.