GENESIS
"Are you okay, Genesis?" Miss Melissa's voice reached me, and I immediately looked up at her. She looked worried, but I forced a quick nod—even though that was far from true.
My stomach was hurting badly. I could barely sit still, and it felt like I was about to throw up.
"You're definitely not fine—you look pale," she said, reaching out to place her hand on my forehead. She held it there for a few moments before pulling away.
"You're not burning up, that's a good sign. But can you tell me where it hurts? Because I know you're in pain, and don't lie to me."
I shifted in my seat again. It was a deep, twisting pain in my lower stomach. I looked down at my book, but the letters were all jumbled, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.
I swallowed hard, but my throat felt dry and raw—like it had been scraped against something rough. The bitter taste of that liquid still clung to my tongue, like something was rotting inside me.
I raised a shaky hand and pressed it against my lower stomach, hoping Miss Melissa would understand. The pain felt like something squishing inside me, and every breath made it worse.
"It's... your stomach?" she asked softly, watching me carefully.
I gave a small nod.
Her brows furrowed, and she crouched down to meet my eyes. "How long has it been, sweetheart? Since this morning?"
I blinked slowly. It had been since I drank it, but of course, I didn't say that—no one would should know.
Miss Melissa touched my arm gently. "Do you want to go to the hospital? But first, we'll have to call Mr. Blackwood and let him know."
I shook my head quickly, but the sudden movement made the room spin. I gripped the desk to steady myself, my fingers curling so tight around the edge they turned white.
"No hospital?" she repeated, and when I nodded again, she sighed. "Alright. But if you feel worse, I'm taking you. Don't argue."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the pain. But my body wasn't listening anymore. Something wasn't right.
Not at all.
I told myself I could bear it through the class. I didn't want to worry anyone—or raise questions that might lead them to find out what I had drunk.
No.
So I focused, doing my best to study and listen to everything Melissa was teaching. She was as good as Liam and made me feel comfortable—not just because she was a woman.
After about an hour, Melissa sent Richard to bring me some medicine and water. I took it, and for a few minutes, it helped—but the pain came back, worse than before. Still, I didn't let it show.
Soon enough, class was over. It was three o'clock, and I was sweating through my clothes.
"You need to go rest. You're definitely not well," she said, her hand brushing my neck. I nodded, but I couldn't rest—not yet. It was time to prepare for ballet class.
As I stood to leave, I suddenly staggered and fell to the floor. Miss Melissa hurried to catch me, and I knew she was saying something—I could see her lips moving through my clouded vision—but I couldn't hear a thing. It felt like I was underwater.
She shook me gently, her hand waving in front of my face. But slowly, darkness crept behind my eyes.
Before I slipped away completely, I reached for my waist and pushed my hand into my skirt. My movements were slow and sluggish, but I managed to drag out the bottle. I glanced to the side, barely able to make out her face, and I dropped it onto her body.
I didn't know why I did it—maybe because if I fainted, I wouldn't know what happened next. Someone might search me and find it. But if my tutor had it, maybe she wouldn't turn me in.
As soon as I gave it to her, calm washed over me. My eyes closed.
****
"What do you mean you don't know what's wrong with her?"
Voices reached my ears, muffled and distant. I wanted to open my eyes, to move—but my body wouldn't listen. It was like I was locked inside myself.
"We ran a few tests," another voice said—calmer this time. "She's stable now, but her vitals were all over the place when she arrived. According to what was said, it started with abdominal cramps and dizziness, which led to fainting… We believe something triggered this, and we're not ruling anything out."
There was a pause—a rustle, maybe a chair shifting.
"We suspect she ingested something. Her system is reacting to a substance, but we won't know exactly what until the toxicology results come back."
"And when will those be ready?" another voice asked. I immediately recognized it—Kieran, and he was close by.
I tried again to open my eyes. For a moment, it felt like something heavy was pressing down on them, but after a slow effort, I managed to push them open. A blinding light flooded my vision, forcing me to shut them tight again.
"She's awake."
A soft female voice spoke. I felt Kieran's hand gently brush my face.
This time, when I opened my eyes, they adjusted to the light. I saw Kieran staring down at me, his brow furrowed with worry—and a sharp pang of guilt hit me in the chest.
It's all my fault.
"How are you feeling, princess?" he asked quietly. I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. I closed them, then opened again, tears silently streaming down my cheeks.
Kieran snapped his head toward the man in white, his voice low but burning with anger. "She's crying. Fix it."
The doctor hesitated. "Like I said, we're still waiting on the results, Mr. Blackwood—"
"Waiting?" Kieran's voice snapped, rising slightly but still cold enough to freeze the air. "She's crying. She's in pain. And all you can say is 'waiting'?"
His hand curled protectively around mine, trembling with barely contained fury. "You don't get it. That's my entire world lying there. If anything—anything—happens to her because someone was too slow, too careless, or just didn't care enough, I will burn this whole goddamn hospital down."
The doctor paled.
I let out a soft, silent whimper. Instantly, Kieran's attention snapped back to me, as if he could hear every quiet sound I made. He leaned in, brushing hair from my forehead with shaking fingers, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me.
"Shh, I'm here, princess. Just breathe. I've got you. You're safe now—nothing's going to happen to you."
I blinked up at him, eyes heavy and damp. For a moment, I saw beneath all that power and rage—a deep, raw fear.
He was terrified of losing me.
He kissed my knuckles gently. "You're fine, baby," he whispered against my skin, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself. "But I'm going to find out exactly what's inside you—and make sure nothing like this ever happens again."