Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After Lora left, Mona sat on that park bench for hours, staring at nothing. The night grew colder, but she barely felt it. What was cold compared to the emptiness inside her?

She pulled the necklace from the trash, her father's last gift now dirty and tangled. Like her. Like everything in her life.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered, clutching the key pendant. "I'm so sorry. I failed you."

Failed everyone, really. Failed at being a Caldwell. Failed at keeping Samuel's love. Failed at basic survival.

The shelter would be full by now. Not that it mattered. She couldn't face Rose's kindness tonight. Couldn't bear to see pity in anyone's eyes.

She walked instead, letting her feet carry her wherever they wanted. Past the diner where she'd been rejected. Past the bookstore Emily had bought just to spite her. Past all the places that marked her descent from wife to nothing.

The city lights blurred through her tears. When had she started crying again? She couldn't remember the last time she'd stopped.

Her reflection caught in a store window made her flinch. Hollow eyes. Sunken cheeks. Unwashed hair. The ghost of someone who used to be Mona Smith.

"You're nothing," Emily's voice echoed in her head. "You've always been nothing."

Maybe Emily had been right all along.

The bridge appeared ahead, its lights reflecting off the dark water below. Mona's feet slowed.

How many times had she driven across this bridge in Samuel's car? Laughing, planning their future, thinking she was happy...

She walked to the middle, her hands gripping the cold railing.

The water looked peaceful from up here. Black and smooth like silk. Like that Valentino dress Lora had been wearing in the photo.

Lora would make a beautiful bride. The kind of bride Samuel deserved. The kind Mona had never been.

She climbed onto the bottom rail, still holding her father's necklace.

"I tried, Dad," she whispered. "I tried so hard to be what they wanted."

The wind picked up, cutting through her thin clothes. Below, the water waited. Patient. Welcoming.

What was left to live for anyway? No home. No money. No identity. No future.

Even her past belonged to someone else now.

She thought of Rose, probably wondering where she was. But Rose would understand. Would probably say Mona had been too gentle for this harsh world.

Her grip on the railing loosened slightly.

One step. That's all it would take. One step and all the pain would stop. All the memories would fade. All the humiliation would end.

She'd read once that drowning was peaceful, once you stopped fighting.

She was so tired of fighting.

As Mona stood on the bridge railing, memories flooded her mind, not of the Caldwells this time, but of happier days that felt like someone else's life:

Her father teaching her to ride a bike in their long driveway, his hands steady on the seat as he ran alongside her. "You've got this, princess! I won't let you fall!"

Sunday mornings in their sunny kitchen, her mother's pancakes filling the house with warmth while her father read the newspaper, stealing maple syrup kisses from her mother when he thought Mona wasn't looking.

Movie nights cuddled between them on their big couch, sharing popcorn and dreams. Her father's deep laugh mixing with her mother's soft giggles at her silly jokes.

Christmas mornings opening presents, her mother filming everything while her father made up ridiculous stories about how Santa got through their security system.

Her sixteenth birthday, the last one they spent together. Her father fastening the key necklace around her neck while her mother watched with tears in her eyes. "This is more than just a key, princess," he'd said. "Someday you'll understand."

The memories hurt worse than any of Emily's cruelty. Because those moments had been real. That love had been real. And now it was gone, leaving her with nothing but echoes of happiness she'd never feel again.

"I miss you both so much," she whispered, tears falling into the darkness below. "I'm sorry I wasn't stronger."

The wind picked up, pulling at her clothes, urging her forward. One step. That's all it would take to end the pain, to stop feeling so desperately alone.

Her fingers loosened on the railing. Her body leaned forward, the dark water calling her home.

"I'm coming," she whispered, and let go.

For one heartbeat, she was falling, the wind rushing past her ears.

Then suddenly, warmth around her wrist. A grip like iron, catching her between earth and sky.

"That's quite a lovely necklace you're wearing."

The voice came from above her, calm and deep, as if they were having a casual conversation and she wasn't dangling over the edge of a bridge.

"Let me go," she choked out, not looking up.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The grip tightened. "That key you're wearing, it opens something rather important. And you, Mona Smith, are far too valuable to lose."

Her head snapped up at the use of her name, but tears blurred her vision. She could only make out a dark figure above her, holding her between life and death with one strong hand.

"You don't know me," she whispered.

A soft laugh. "I know more about you than the Caldwells ever did. More than you know about yourself."

Another hand reached down, warm against her cold skin.

"Come back up," the voice said gently. "Let me show you who you really are."

For a moment, Mona hesitated. The darkness below still called to her, promising peace, promising an end to the pain.

But something in that calm voice tugged at her memory. Something about the way he'd said her name......

"Who are you?" she asked.

Thunder rolled in the distance as strong hands pulled her back over the railing. But before she could see her rescuer's face clearly, the world spun and darkness took her.

The last thing she heard was that calm voice saying, "Welcome back to the game, Miss Mona Smith. It's time you learned to fight back."

Then consciousness slipped away, leaving her with more questions than answers, and the strange feeling that her father's key necklace was suddenly burning against her skin.