Page 2 of The Wishing Game

"Lulu, you just woke up..." she stammers, fighting to keep the smile on her face.

"Where's my husband?" I repeat, my voice breaking as the meaning of their prevarication sinks in. "Please tell me where my Nikki is," I add in a pained whisper.

She bites her lip and, coming closer, she takes my hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

A flash appears in my mind and I see Nikki on the ground, covered in blood. His hand is on my hand, giving me a comforting squeeze right before he...

"He died at the scene," Noelle finally says. "There was nothing the doctors could do for him."

"No." I shake my head. "That's not possible. My husband can't be dead."

"I'm sorry, Lulu. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers, tears swimming in her eyes.

"It's not true. It can't be true. I need to see him," I mumble incoherently.

He's not dead. How can he be dead? No, I refuse to believe that.

Shaking off her hold, I rip the IV from my arm and swing my legs over the bed.

My eyes close just as I inhale deeply, a sharp pain pricking my side.

Everything hurts.

"Lulu, you can't..."

"I need to see him. I won't believe it until I see him. My Nikki isnotdead."

He would never leave me. That day we met again, five years ago, he promised me he would never leave me—that I would be his just as he would be mine.

Forever.

He wouldn't break his word to me.

"Lulu, I know it must be hard to believe and I realize you must be feeling as if the entire world is about to end—I would feel the same—but you need to take care of yourself first," Noelle pleads with me as she tries to grab my arm.

I slap it aside as I put one foot in front of the other, almost as if learning to walk again. The pain is just as intense on the second step—maybe even more. But despite this excruciating physical agony I find myself in, I cannot bring myself to stop until I see him with my own eyes.

He's not dead. Hecan'tbe dead.

Just the other day he promised he would leave his mark on my skin—sear his words of love into my flesh so I'd never be ashamed of my scars again. Just the other day we planned a future—one far, far away from all the chaos of the city. Far from vengeance and greed. A future in which we'd be free.

Just the two of us.

Free...

"Lulu!"

I reach the door of the salon, wrench it open, and come face to face with the doctor and a couple of nurses.

"You can't be out of bed," the doctor says, instructing the nurses to take me back.

I shake my head, evading them. I'm not in control of my limbs at this point—my desperation is. "I need to see my husband," I mumble as I wobble down the corridor.

One of the nurses catches my right arm, trying to hold me back without hurting me.

"You need to go back, Mrs. Archibald. You'll hurt yourself."

"No," I spit out, and with a force I didn't know I was capable of, I dislodge her hand from my arm, continuing forward. "Just tell me where my husband is. I need to see my husband."

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