Thank God, I’m safe. I didn’t die.
Elliot wasted no time, flipping on the AC and setting it to just the right temperature. He found a clean towel and carefully wiped the sweat from my arms and face.
When my breathing finally calmed down, he didn’t hesitate—he picked me up and carried me straight to the bathroom. He set me gently in the bathtub, making sure my injured hands rested on the edge. He checked the water until it felt perfect, then turned on the tap. Take a shower. You’ll feel better. After that, I’ll take you to the hospital. Don’t be scared. You’re okay now.
It hit me all at once—I was alive. I’d made it.
Elliot had saved me.
Warm water washed over me, soothing my shaking body. My feet still throbbed with pain, sharp enough to make me dizzy, but somehow, it felt good.
Because pain means I’m still alive.
Elliot hurried out and came back with two mugs of warm water. He helped me drink, slow and careful, until I could finally take a breath without shaking.
Little by little, I got some strength back. My voice sounded thin and raw, but I managed to speak. Thank you, Mr. Foster. Just four words, but I almost choked on them.
And then, out of nowhere, I thought of Remy.
We’d just started dating that winter. The lake on campus had iced over. Everyone else slid across without a problem, but when I tried, the ice broke right under me.
In the summer, that lake was covered in lilies, but underneath was thick, sucking mud. I got stuck, sinking fast, and couldn’t pull myself out.
Some people ran for security. Others called 911.
Remy didn’t wait. He tore across the ice with nothing but stubbornness and worry, not even stopping to think. He reached me and pulled me out before anyone else could, but then he slipped and got trapped in the mud himself. He was stuck there, freezing, for more than half an hour until help finally arrived.
That night, he ran a high fever. I sat by his bed, crying and begging him to go to the hospital, blaming myself. If only I hadn’t tried to skate like everyone else.


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