All Chapters of The Vision She Hid: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The day I got my vision back, I didn’t see stars—I saw my fiancé unzipping my nurse like a cheap suitcase behind a plastic curtain.Poetic, if you’re into Greek tragedies and cheap lingerie.***My name is Leo Christofides. I’d lived in the darkness for two years, and I tell you, it’s not like walking in a black dream with your other senses swell and sharp—people who tell you that are full of crap. Darkness is just that, darkness—large, cold, and ugly like elderly catfish.It wasn’t always like this. I used to dance for the Royal Ballet. But that was back when my legs weren’t just furniture in an expensive hospital. I wasn’t born blind. I’ve seen the blue of the sky and the cherry blossom in late spring. I remember a photo of Margot Fonteyn on my bedroom wall. It was black and white, blurry, and preciously old. It showed Margot dressed in a black leotard, with her right leg poised in the air like she was kicking fate right in the teeth. Her points looked worn and not that clean. Her f

The nurse peeled herself off Ricky like she was trying to detach from Velcro, still wearing that smug smirk. She gave me a look like I was the family dog that just peed on the carpet—disdainful and a little too pleased with herself. I held the box out to Ricky, playing the part of the useless blind girl they thought I was. He took it without a thank-you, just a brush of his fingers over mine, casual as swatting a fly.Ricky gave the box a lazy stare, cracked it open, and flicked out a condom with his thumb. The nurse purred, winding herself around him like a cat that thought it had caught the biggest rat in the alley. I didn’t look at them. Couldn’t look at them. Watching them slobber all over each other was too much reality for me.I sat on the metal chair, acting like a statue—helpless, harmless, and perfectly blind. The trick to my survival was making sure they never suspected otherwise. My sight was still recovering—sometimes the world flickered in and out like a bad TV signal. Bu

The room smelled like blood, sweat, and fear, and none of it was mine. The men stood around like grim-faced gargoyles, arms crossed, guns tucked into jackets that looked ill fitted but expensive. Ricky was still trying to hold onto his dignity.The big man with the wicked smile leaned back against the wall, his eyes narrowed, mouth curled in a smirk. He was the kind of guy who looked at problems like they were puzzles he can’t be asked solving. So he shot them dead. He kept a bunch of goons for that. Ricky looked at him like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.“Her mother’s in my hands,” Ricky croaked, voice cracking like an old porcelain. “Take her. She won’t resist. She knows better than that.”The big man raised a dark eyebrow, his face giving away not very much.“Huh. Is that so?” he asked, almost politely. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I made sure to keep my expression blank and cold like the marble floor under my feet.Ricky, emboldened by the lack

The ceiling above me was the color of expensive cream from Harrods food hall. It was probably late afternoon, and I just woke up. The daylight slid through the tall windows in lazy ribbons, too golden, too soft for the kind of place where a girl might wake up owned. I lay still for a minute, eyes half-shut. It took me some time to remember where I was. There was silk rustle of the drapes, the faint tick of a wall clock that probably cost more than my freedom, and the distant echo of footsteps—slow, deliberate. Not the kind of steps that hurry. Not the kind that need to be discreet. I ducked under the blanket. The sheets smelled like lavender and wealth. The bed was endlessly soft, obviously designed to cradle a princess. Pity I felt more like a loot at the bottom of a pirate ship. I gave myself a three-second count before sitting up. One for rage. Two for heartbreak. Three for playing nice. The door opened soft as a sigh. I didn’t need my eyes to know who it was. The scent gav

At this point things caught up with me. I was desperate for a sip of fresh air. I waved my hand just a little, and the maid slid in, accompanied by the frightened butler. “All is fine. I will be back in a minute,” I said with the face of a dying swan. My hand found the maid’s arm, and the big guy didn’t care to object. He was too busy studying a remnants of black pepper sauce on his plate. My legs were weak from the shock and the wine. The maid dragged me outside, down the stone stairs. I pushed her arm away as soon as we reached the garden and got violently sick on top of the buxus hedge. It took me a while, and I was super careful not to spoil the new dress. The air was moist and foggy, no stars on the sky, just the yellow windows of the house. I felt better after throwing up. There were living things around me like green hedges, like freshly-cut grass, and the grumpy owl that flew off the roof in search of her prey. The maid was also good. She stood behind me, gently touching my b