Chapter 6

Simon was tossed into the ring without mercy. Behind him, the bull's eyes burned red as it charged straight at him.

Leaning on his crutches and dragging his ruined leg, he scrambled to get away, frantic and terrified, his voice going raw from shouting.

"Eleanor, I didn't do it!

"Mom! Kevin! Let me out!"

No matter how desperately Simon shouted and begged, his so-called ‘family’ only stood on the raised platform and watched him coldly.

Eventually, his strength gave out. Before he could dodge, the bull's horns caught him and flung him through the air. He crashed hard onto the ground.

The stump of his leg slammed against the gravel. It felt as though every organ inside him had been shaken loose.

He had no strength left to run.

Like a rag doll, he took hit after hit from the bull as its horns pierced his skin, blood soaked through his clothes, and searing pain swept through his entire body.

After what felt like forever, Eleanor finally let the handler step in and lead the bull away.

Simon lay sprawled on the ground, barely clinging to life.

Eleanor looked down at him and spoke flatly. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Simon looked up at her, dazed. Before he could say a word, everything went black, and he lost consciousness entirely.

When he opened his eyes again, Simon was lying in the big bed in his bedroom. His wounds had already been bandaged.

Eleanor sat beside the bed, dark circles under her eyes as if she had not slept in days.

When she saw his eyes open, her face lit up. "Simon, you're finally awake."

She picked up a bowl of soup from the nightstand, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, and lowered her voice.

"We were all so angry at the time. None of us thought you'd get hurt this badly. Mom and Jeremy feel terrible about it. They made this soup for you themselves. Here, let me feed you."

Simon looked at the watery soup. It had clearly been thrown together without any real care, and he almost laughed.

"You still think I pushed Poppy?"

Eleanor frowned, her tone impatient.

"Okay, that's enough. It's in the past. What's the point of arguing over who was right with a dying man?

"Jeremy's getting worse by the day. He wants to see the clouds from above, so I bought a sightseeing plane. Now that you're awake, you can come with us and take pictures for him."

Simon stared at her for a moment.

Eleanor had only stayed by his side until he woke up because Jeremy needed a photographer.

He shook his head without thinking. "I'm not going."

His battered heart could not take another blow.

Eleanor, however, was not about to give him a choice.

Her expression hardened. She set the soup down hard on the table, dragged Simon to the airfield without another word, and forced him onto the plane.

"This is Jeremy's dying wish. Don't ruin it."

Before Simon could even try to get off, Eleanor pulled back on the controls, and the plane slowly lifted into the sky.

Jeremy sat in the copilot's seat, marveling. "Wow, the view from the cockpit is incredible!"

Thrilled by the novelty, he held up his phone and kept snapping pictures of the instrument panel and all the different buttons, curiously flipping switches as he went.

Simon frowned. His instincts as a pilot would not let him stay quiet.

"Don't touch anything. If you hit the wrong button, it could be dangerous."

Jeremy stopped, looking hurt. "Simon, please don't be mad. I was just curious."

A flicker of sympathy crossed Eleanor's eyes, and she spoke to him softly.

"It's okay, Jeremy. This plane is yours, and it's flying just for you. As long as I'm here, you can do whatever you want."

Jeremy smiled and reached for the buttons again.

Simon was about to stop him when an alarm suddenly started blaring, and red warning lights flooded the cockpit.

Jeremy had pressed the wrong button and caused a short circuit.

A deafening explosion tore through the fuel tank at the tail of the plane, and in an instant, raging flames and thick smoke poured into the cabin.

"Jeremy!"

Eleanor shouted his name on instinct. Without a thought for the plane she was flying, she lunged at Jeremy and wrapped herself around him.

Simon's heart lurched.

The woman who had once been a top pilot and followed every rule in the book had abandoned the controls to make Jeremy happy.

With no one at the controls, the plane bucked violently twice.

The image of Eleanor's crash flashed before his eyes again. The terror of that memory seized him like an invisible hand, squeezing his throat shut.

His hands and legs would not stop shaking.

Even so, he bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood and forced himself to stay calm. He threw himself at the controls and, relying on instincts carved into him through years of training, quickly shut off the fuel valve and went through the emergency procedures.

When he turned around again, Eleanor had already strapped on her gear and was holding Jeremy against her chest, ready to jump.

The fire was spreading, yet she did not spare Simon so much as a glance.

"Jeremy can't make it without me. Simon, you'll have to find your own way out."