Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Mona huddled under the bridge, her body numb with cold as darkness settled around her. The water below moved silently, black and endless, much like the emptiness inside her chest. She hadn't moved for hours, hadn't eaten, hadn't even cried. There were no tears left.

Emily's voice echoed in her mind: "This is just the beginning. By tonight, you'll have no reputation, no shelter, no future."

She'd been right. As always. The Caldwells had taken everything - her home, her money, her dignity. And now, with their visit to the shelter, they'd taken her last refuge. Her last shred of hope.

What was left? A ghost in borrowed clothes. A nobody with nowhere to go.

Night fell completely, the air growing bitter cold. Mona barely felt it. What was cold compared to the ice that had formed around her heart?

With trembling hands, she reached into her small plastic bag, pulling out the few items that were "hers" - the donated toothbrush, the comb with missing teeth, the thin jacket Rose had given her.

Rose. The one person who had shown her kindness. And even Rose had turned away when the Caldwells came with their lies. Even Rose couldn't risk helping her anymore.

"I'm sorry," Mona whispered to no one. "I'm sorry I was so weak."

She pulled herself to her feet, her body aching from sitting on the hard ground for so long. Where could she go? What could she do? The questions had no answers.

Her feet carried her away from the bridge, through dark streets that grew emptier with each passing block. Shop windows reflected a broken woman she barely recognized - hollow-eyed, dirty hair, slumped shoulders. A ghost drifting through a world that had no place for her.

As she passed a small coffee shop, the smell of food made her stomach clench painfully. How long since she'd eaten? She couldn't remember. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

She paused, shame burning through her as she considered searching the nearby trash can for discarded food. Was this what she'd become? Digging through garbage like an animal?

"Dad," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Mom. I'm so sorry. I failed you. I failed everyone."

The street lights blurred through her tears as she walked on, moving without direction, without purpose, a ghost drifting aimlessly through the night.

Her reflection in a dark store window made her stop and stare. Who was that hollow-eyed woman looking back at her? Those lifeless eyes sunk deep in a gaunt face. That dirty, tangled hair. The empty shell that used to be Mona Smith.

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

Lora's cruel smile flashed in her memory. "Samuel says you were never any good in bed. Too shy, too boring."

Samuel's cold eyes, looking through her as if she were invisible. "My previous marriage was a mistake."

They were right. All of them. She was nothing. Had always been nothing. A pathetic fool who'd believed in love, in family, in belonging.

The bridge loomed ahead, its lights shimmering on the dark water below. Mona's feet slowed, then stopped.

How many times had she crossed this bridge in Samuel's car? Laughing, holding his hand, planning their future, believing the lie that she was happy, that she belonged...

She walked to the middle section, her cold fingers gripping the metal railing.

The water looked peaceful from here. Black and smooth like silk. Like that expensive red dress Lora had worn at the shelter. The dress that had made Mona's borrowed clothes look even more pathetic by comparison.

Lora would make a perfect Caldwell wife. The kind Emily wanted. The kind Samuel deserved. The kind Mona had tried so desperately to be but never could.

She climbed onto the bottom rail, her hands trembling in the cold night air.

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

The wind cut through her thin clothes like knives, but the pain felt right somehow. Below, the dark water waited, patient and welcoming.

What was left to live for anyway? No home. No money. No future. She didn't even have her past anymore; they'd stolen that too, rewriting every memory into a narrative where she was the villain, the thief, the mentally unstable woman who deserved to be cast out.

One small step. That's all it would take. One tiny movement and all the pain would stop forever. All the memories would fade to nothing. All the humiliation would end.

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

She was so, so tired of fighting.

As Mona stood swaying on the bridge railing, memories crashed over her, not of the Caldwells this time, but of happier days that felt like they belonged to someone else entirely:

Her father teaching her to ride a bike in their long driveway, his strong hands steady on the seat as he ran beside 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 his newspaper, stealing maple syrup kisses from her mother when he thought Mona wasn't watching.

Movie nights snuggled 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 crazy stories about how Santa got through their security system.

Her sixteenth birthday, the last one they spent together. "Remember, princess," he'd said. "You're stronger than you know."

These memories hurt worse than anything Emily had ever done to her. Because those moments had been real. That love had been real. And now it was gone forever, leaving her with nothing but echoes of happiness she would never feel again.

"I miss you both so much," she sobbed, tears falling into the darkness below. "I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry I let them take everything you worked for."

The wind pulled harder at her clothes, urging her forward. One step. Just one single step to end the pain, to stop feeling so completely, desperately alone.

Her fingers loosened on the cold metal. Her body tilted forward, the waiting water calling her home.

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

For one endless heartbeat, she was falling, the wind rushing past her ears, a strange peace washing over her.

Then suddenly, warmth around her wrist. A grip like iron, catching her between heaven and hell.

"That's not the answer, Mona Smith."

The voice came from above her, calm and deep, as if they were chatting at a coffee shop and she wasn't dangling over the edge of a bridge.

"Let me go," she begged, not looking up, just wanting the pain to end.

"I can't do that." The grip tightened. "You're far too valuable to lose like this."

Her head snapped up at the sound 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 brokenly. "Nobody knows me."

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

Another hand reached down, warm against her ice-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 promised peace, still offered an end to the unbearable weight crushing her soul.

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

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice small and lost.

Thunder crashed overhead as strong hands pulled her back over the railing. But before she could see her rescuer's face clearly, the world tilted violently and darkness rushed in from all sides.

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 entirely, leaving her with nothing but questions.