1

 

Rick’s dad was old school. He lived by his word and bought the newest, the coolest equipment the money could buy for my treatment. Thanks to him I didn’t give up. I didn’t want to let Rick’s dad down. One morning I woke up hot and sweating. I opened my eyes and realized that the world is less black than usual. It was still a very dark shade of grey, and the shapes were blurry like I was looking through the window in heavy rain. The room was so hot it felt like I was simmering in a pot above a campfire. The kind of heat that soaked your bones and left your skin flypaper sticky. I bet the nurse did it on purpose—twisting the dial on the AC like she was tuning a radio, settling on the station that played “slow roast” on repeat. Her idea of a cruel joke. As if I couldn’t tell the difference between warm and inferno. After all, the blind girl would be too frightened to complain.

I got up, still pretending to fumble through the blur of shadows and shapes, and felt my way to the control panel. My fingers brushed smooth plastic, turned the tumbler, and grabbed the curtain next to AC, making sure it was in the right direction. I felt something soft behind the curtain. It was moving. I froze.

A rustle of fabric. A choked giggle. I stood still, listening to the wet, hungry sound of lips on the skin and the unmistakable rasp of a zipper giving up the fight. There was a muffled laugh—hers. The laugh of a woman who just got a promotion she didn’t deserve. And then Rick’s voice—low, hushed, intimate—spilled through the gap between curtain and wall. “You look better in it than she ever did.”

Her laugh was like cough syrup, thick and sickly sweet. “You say that every time.”

I didn’t need to see to know what was happening. But the cruelty of it was - I did see. Barely. But just enough. In the bright light, when the sun kissed the window at the right angle, the world came to me like an old friend. After two years of darkness, it was that awful morning I’d woken up to a shimmering silhouette of dawn. But I wouldn’t say a word. Not to the doctors. Not to Rick. Especially not to Rick.

My sight flickered in and out like a bad bulb, but it was good enough to catch glimpses of things when the light hit right. Like now. Like the sharp glint of the necklace—the one my mother gave me on my seventeenth birthday—draped around the nurse’s pale neck. And the dress—red, slinky, too tight and too short—that he’d given me when we were still a number. A gift, he called it.

Now it was hers. Along with his hands, locked around her waist. I felt something icy bloom in my chest. Dread was spreading fast through my body like a night frost. It wasn’t the betrayal that cut the deepest—it was the ease. The lazy way he bent down to whisper something filthy in her ear, the way her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, yanking just enough to make him grunt.

I swallowed hard, the air thick with sweat and musk. It was like fate couldn’t decide whether to bless me with my sight or curse me with it. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the dark, believing the lie that Rick was still mine, that he cared. Now the truth is crawling up my spine, digging the claws right in. Sadly, I can’t unsee things.

My hand shook, knocking into the metal cart. A glass bottle tumbled off, shattering on the floor with a crisp, crystalline crash. They jumped apart like guilty teenagers, his voice snapping, “What the hell are you doing there?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “I didn’t see it.”

She smirked, running her fingers through her messed up hair, lips stained with his kiss. “Clumsy girl.”

I gritted my teeth and stepped back, making sure to look confused—like a blind girl would. I could hear him moving, zipping up his pants, fixing his shirt. I wondered if he felt a flicker of shame. But when he spoke, his tone was casual and flat. “Do you need anything?”

“The air conditioning. It’s too hot.”

The nurse sauntered forward, swinging her hips like she was on a runway, stopping just short of bumping into me.

“Ah, yes. I’ll take care of it.” Her perfume was suffocating—thick and sweet, like it was trying to mask something rotten.

I bit my tongue, feeling my nails dig into my palms. One wrong move and I could lose my mother’s treatment, and the little hope I had left to get better. I needed them to think I was still blind. I wanted Rick to keep feeling in charge.

He walked past me without saying a word, brushing my shoulder with deliberate carelessness. The sound of their voices faded as they left the room. I sank onto the bed, bile rising in my throat. I had to play smart. I better be blind to Rick’s deception.

After the surgeries, after the dark had swallowed me whole, Rick swore to take care of me. He promised I’d always be his girl, even when the doctors said the damage was irreversible. I clung to his promise. It was the only thing keeping me from slipping away. Now I knew it was a fat lie.

The room felt colder now, AC humming back to life. I swallowed the ache, forcing my hands to stop shaking. The nurse popped back in, a dreamy, coy smile still on her lips. She eyed me suspiciously, head cocked like a bird sizing up a worm.

“You’re very quiet today,” she said like she was testing me.

I forced a shaky laugh. “I am tired.”

She didn’t buy it. I could tell from the way her eyes pierced me—like she was trying to peel my skin off and see the truth underneath. Then, as if some wicked idea popped into her head.

“Hey,” she cooed, her eyes flicking to the bedside table. “Can you hand me the Paracetamol next to your bed?”

I fumbled, keeping my hands unsteady as I reached for the small box. My fingers skimmed the top, and I froze, recognizing the name of the brand. Rick’s condoms. My cheeks didn’t flash. I kept my face nice and blank. I picked up the box and held it out.

“Here.”

She snatched it from me, and behind her, Rick gave a low, satisfied chuckle. They thought they were smart. To them, I was stupid, blind, and broken beyond repair. Maybe I was—but not enough to forgive the way they’ve treated me.

Rick stepped closer. I felt his beer breath on my face. His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up, even though I couldn’t see him.

“What a shame. Pretty blind doll,” he whispered, “you’re lucky I’m here for you. You should be grateful.”

The ache in my chest burned, twisting into something darker. I forced my voice to sound meek. “Of course, Rick. I’m grateful.”

He grunted, satisfied, and dropped my chin like it was something not worth holding to. It didn’t matter how much I hated him—how much I wanted to claw that smug smile off his face. I couldn’t leave. Not while my mother was trapped in this damn place, caught in the web of his family’s control.