Treble Maker - Kendra Moreno

Prologue

The lights were too bright, too white, as they flashed above my head at regular intervals. The soft murmur of panicked voices talked over top of me. It sounded like they should be shouting but their voices were muffled in my head, softening the blow. I couldn’t move; my limbs felt as if they were tied to bricks. I was confused. How did I even get here?

As if thinking the question triggered it, a flash of what I remember slammed into me.

You’re fucking worthless. I don’t know why I ever put up with you. I think it’s time to teach you a real lesson, Vega.

If I could move, I would have flinched at the memory of a raised fist, or the pain that blossomed after. Screaming. Had I been screaming as he rained down blow after blow on me, as he hurt me, as I realized he wasn’t going to stop this time? He hadn’t even been drinking. This had all been pure rage, and I’d suffered the price.

Someone began hooking things to me; an IV in my arm, oxygen at my nostrils, something that made a beeping noise that was too slow, much too slow. And then everything started to fade, grew black, and a sudden weightlessness came over me. Was this what death felt like? It was almost comforting.

Is this what you wanted? You made me do this? This is all your fault.

The flash of the knife had been a surprise. It’d been an even bigger surprise when I realized it was me holding the knife, barely sitting up against the cabinets, my hands shaking and weak. I couldn’t breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

What are you gonna do, hm? Stab me? Laughter. Amused laughter even as I bled on the floor. My hand shook harder. He lunged at me.

The beeping turned into a long, drawn out whine beside me. I could still see the lights, the flashes of worried professional faces over me. Was I in the hospital? Is that what was happening?

“Code Blue! Code Blue! Grab the AED!”

“Move!”

“Clear!”

Something cold touched my chest, so cold, and then violent pain exploded outwards, bringing all my injuries back to the forefront. Still, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and the few mechanical beeps turn into the long whine again.

“Again!”

Bright light flared above me, comforting, beautiful. I reached for it, but not physically. It’s a mental reach, a knowing that I’m almost home, the finale. If I could just get there, the pain would go away, the hurt, the abuse; it would all disappear.

A face moved into the light, a beautiful woman with her hair in large curls that spoke of another era. Her lips were painted bright red. A nurse? But her uniform was old fashioned, not anything like the other faces wear. I can see her with eyes wide open but the long whine of the machine beside me tells me I shouldn’t be able to.

“Sweetheart, if you go into that light, he’ll have won,” she said, her voice thick with the southern accent I was accustomed to hearing. Her eyes shone almost brighter than the light still beckoning me forward.

But it hurts, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t speak. All I could do was reach for the light.

“It’s going to hurt for a while, and once the physical pain fades, the mental pain will still take time to overcome, but, sweetheart, if you follow the pull to the light, if you die, he won. Consider this your last chance to fight, to shove it back in his face that you’re alive. Live. Live for you. Live for all of us.”

Her words slammed home into my heart. Live for all of us. Live for all of us. How many women had been in my position? How many died because of assholes and abusers? How many didn’t have the chance to fight at all? Was I going to let Derek win or was I going to fight against what he did to me?

“Fight, sweetheart. Fight to live.”

He would not win. After everything, he would not win.

“Clear!”

With the words shouting inside my mind, I shoved away from the light above the woman, and with that came excruciating pain as electricity was shoved inside my heart, as the whine turned into a consistent beep. I still couldn’t breathe, not through the pain, but I was aware of every single wound, every bruise, the broken bones.

“She’s back. Hurry, move her. We need to get her to surgery.”

I