Every day he not only beat me but also poured boiling water on me, roaring, ""I'll boil your belly until a son comes out!""

The line rang three times.

With every ring, my heart hammered against my ribs, sending fresh waves of pain through my burned chest. On the fourth ring, someone answered. There was no greeting, just the sound of quick, uncertain breathing, as if the person on the other end had been running to catch the phone.

Marissa glanced at me. "Is this Evelyn Hart?"

Silence. Then, a voice came through the receiver. It sounded smaller than I remembered, yet it was unmistakably hers.

"Who is this?" Evelyn asked.

"My name is Marissa. I’m a nurse at St. Catherine’s Hospital. I’m calling on behalf of your sister, Caroline."

The breath on the line caught and stopped entirely.

Marissa looked down at me, and I managed the smallest nod.

"She’s here," the nurse continued gently. "She’s awake. She asked us to contact you."

My sister made a sound I will never forget as long as I live. It wasn't a sob, and it wasn't a gasp. It was the desperate, grinding noise of a locked door finally being forced open after years of rust and neglect.

"Put her on," Evelyn begged, her voice cracking. "Please. Please put her on."

Marissa lowered the receiver to my ear.

"Evie?" I rasped. I hadn't called her that since we were teenagers sharing a bedroom.

"Carrie," she whispered back. The word held a decade of grief.

Luke shifted aggressively near the door, his face twisting into a mask of pure fury. The nurse noticed and stepped even further between us, her hand resting near the emergency call button on the wall.

Evelyn began firing questions so quickly they bled into one another. Was I safe? What happened? Did I need her to drive up right now? Why had no one called her sooner?

My throat tightened, making it impossible to answer them all.

"I need you," I said. It was all I could manage.

"I’m coming," she replied instantly. "I’m leaving right now."

Luke let out a loud, mocking scoff. "She lives three states away."