Chapter 3
I gripped the crossbow bolt stubbornly, refusing to let go, while Marshall's grip on my wrist only got tighter.
Then, with a sharp crack, my wrist broke, and the bolt slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor.
Dorothy snatched it up in a flash and slashed it across my face, leaving a bloody mark.
She immediately hid behind Marshall, giving me that innocent look, like she hadn't done anything wrong.
I roared and charged at her, but Marshall blocked me, stepping right in my way.
"Serena, you started this. Don't blame Dora," he said, his voice icy.
He was probably just afraid I'd snap and hurt his precious sister.
He hauled me up in his arms and dumped me in the car, heading straight for the hospital.
In the hospital room, Marshall sat by my bed, quietly examining the stitched-up wound on my face—over 20 stitches holding it together.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, his voice flat.
My ear was torn up, my wrist broken, and blood was still smeared all over my face.
So this was his idea of a grand wedding?
Seriously? He'd got the nerve to ask if it hurt?
Before I could say a word, he kept going.
He said, "Why are you being so stubborn? I told you, this is the last time.
"Can't you just let her have this one? Just give in to her, for once.
"She came to live with us when she was three, always feeling like an outsider.
"She's into all this because, honestly, the little kid inside her never grew up.
"She's not out to hurt you, she's just trying to make herself feel better.
"Next time you come back, we'll help her get over it, help her find something else to focus on. Isn't that enough?"
I gritted my teeth against the pain, pushed myself up a little, and pointed at the door, my face blank.
I said, "I can't love you and pretend to care about her too.
"Besides, with a brother who dotes on her so much, how could she ever feel like an outsider?
"Just so you know, this is the last time."
He let out a long sigh and took my hand.
He said, "Calm down. Don't let anger talk.
"She's my sister. I've always known nothing could ever happen between us.
"So there's no reason for you to feel jealous.
"I know who I love. It's you."
But the unwillingness and disappointment in his eyes told a different story.
It hurt to be toyed with by fate, didn't it? Well, I knew that pain all too well. And that was precisely why I was letting Marshall and Dorothy go.
I jerked my hand away, trying to rip off my wedding ring, but before I could, he suddenly dropped to one knee by my bedside.
He pleaded, "Sera, please, don't stay angry with me, okay?
"Let's have another wedding—even grander and more beautiful than this one."
Then, like he was half confessing, half trying to talk himself into it, Marshall went on.
He said, "I still remember the first time Dora fried you in the tub.
"That gut-wrenching pain—wasn't that love?
"And when I woke up the next day and everything had rewound to when we first met, that wild joy—that was love too."
I figured the system must've glitched and didn't wipe his memory.
But listening to him listing off all his so-called proofs of love, totally emotionless, it just made me want to roll my eyes.
Just then, an orderly pushed open the bathroom door.
But almost immediately, frantic, anguished screams from Dorothy erupted from inside.
"Marshall, help!" she shrieked.