Chapter 1
I bore Arthur Jackson's bone cancer pain for five long years.
Yet when his sweetheart, Celeste Perkins, scraped her skin, he accused me of faking illness to compete for his favor and even smashed my special painkillers.
"Celeste ruined her health to save me back then. Who are you to play the victim?" he spat.
I stared at the shattered pills scattered across the floor, but for the first time, I didn't erupt into hysteria or argue with him.
Instead, I whispered in my mind to the System. "Confirm: pain transfer binding disengaged."
Seven days after his unbinding countdown ended, every ounce of that bone-crushing, soul-eating cancer pain would return—no dilution, no mercy—to his own body.
*****
The pain burrowed out from deep within my marrow, like ten thousand ants gnawing away at me.
I collapsed onto the floor, clawing desperately at the cream-colored carpet until my nails split and blood seeped out, staining the wool red.
Cold sweat poured into my eyes, blurring my vision.
This wasn't just a flesh wound. It felt like someone had stuffed broken glass between my bones. Even the slightest movement was torture.
My hands trembling uncontrollably, I reached for my phone and, relying on muscle memory, dialed Arthur Jackson's number.
The endless ringtone echoed in my ears, each one feeling like a death knell.
After seven rings, the call finally connected.
"Arthur, the medicine... bring me the medicine..." I barely managed to say.
My voice shook so badly, my teeth rattled and bit into my tongue, filling my mouth with the taste of blood.
But instead of the concern I was hoping for, all I heard was a playful, flirty laugh on the other end.
"Arthur, easy, you're hurting me," Celeste Alford cooed.
Then Arthur's voice came through, cold enough to freeze your soul.
"Lorelai, are you out of your mind? It's the middle of the night, and you're still up—stooping so low as to fake being sick just to get noticed?" he snapped.
I bit down on my lip until it split, swallowing the blood pooling in my mouth.
"I really can't move. My bones hurt... Please, for the sake of our five years together, just come home and bring me the medicine," I begged.
The medicine bottle was right there on the cabinet, but I couldn't even crawl the three feet to reach it.
He scoffed. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Arthur sneered, "Go on, keep faking it. Last time it was a stomachache, before that it was dizziness, and now you're saying your bones hurt? Lorelai, you could win Best Actress with your performance.
"Celeste just cut her hand while slicing fruit. She's bleeding all over the place. I can't leave her right now."
She cut her hand?
I was about to pass out from the pain, and he was fussing over someone else's barely a scratch.
"Arthur... I'm really in pain..." I tried to say.
He cut me off, sounding completely fed up, "Shut up!"
"Since you're so good at pretending, why don't you just suffer and die at home? Stop bothering Celeste and me. Don't bring your bad luck to us."
He hung up on me without a shred of mercy.
The phone slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor.
I collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. Every breath dragged across my ribs like a jagged saw, slicing me open from the inside out.
No way. I couldn't just die here.
Clinging to every breath, I propped myself up on my elbows and slowly dragged my body toward the door.
Just one step... then another.
Suddenly, my wrists lost all strength and went limp.
My body lost all control, and I went crashing down the stairs from the second floor.
The dull, chilling thuds of my body hitting the steps echoed through the house.
On the last impact, my forehead smashed straight into the marble steps in the foyer.
Warm blood trickled down, blurring my vision until my whole world was drenched in crimson.
I collapsed on the floor like a dead dog, staring up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
In my mind, the mechanical voice that had lain dormant for five years suddenly echoed, cold and emotionless.
[Warning! The Host's vital signs are plummeting. Your body has reached its threshold for pain. Do you wish to continue the 'damage transfer' binding?]
Struggling, I managed to lift my hand and wipe the blood from my eyelids.
Seeing the crimson smeared across my fingers, I couldn't help but let out a sudden, bitter laugh.
It had been five years. I took the fall for him—for five whole years—and all I got in return was disgust toward me.
"I'm done," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "End the pain transfer."
[Command acknowledged. Unbinding procedure initiated. Seven-day countdown started.]
[Time remaining: 6 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes.]
*****
The next day at noon, I heard the front door unlock.
I managed to pull myself up from the floor and quickly patched up my wounds.
Arthur walked in, his clothes drenched in the sharp scent of cologne—the one Celeste loved most.
His eyes landed on the blood-soaked bandage on my forehead, and he paused for a second before leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Arthur scoffed, "So now you're pulling the whole drama queen act? Crying, making a scene, and threatening to off yourself?"