I could feel the chaos swirling around me—shouts, rushed footsteps, the sharp scent of antiseptic. I heard voices barking familiar medical terms. There was no doubt: I was in the E.R. Every inch of my body burned. I couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out. I was locked inside myself, drowning in pain. Then the memories came, not gently, but in sharp, disjointed flashes. One scene emerged with devastating clarity, so vivid it felt like I was living it again in real-time. “Mom!” My chest clenched the second I saw her bloodied body being pulled from the wreckage. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, every part of me desperate to reach her, wishing I could somehow undo it all, take her place, stop time. Anything. “Gazelle Sinclair, can you hear me?” a voice called out as someone pried open my eyelids. But my mind remained trapped in that agonizing past, unable to surface from the depths of memory. Another scene seized me. The night Victor Hensley kidnapped me for the second time; his words s
Last Updated : 2025-06-22 Read more