The next time I open my eyes, I’m puzzled. I’m in a bed, in a room not my own. I hear voices.

Vaguely familiar voices, arguing.

Abruptly, they cease and Doctor Cullen is at my side. “Miss Hale?”

I try to nod, to speak, but find I can do neither.

A humming comes from the other side of the room, but I cannot move to locate its source. Doctor Cullen smiles gently, his eyes still holding pity – I despise it.

I do not deserve to be pitied.

I just want to die.

Why won’t they just let me die?