Chapter 2 - Red Velvet and Cold Concrete
The pain didn’t hit like a fire; it hit like an icy spike driven directly into my bone marrow.
I couldn’t breathe. When I looked down, the hem of the blush-pink silk bridesmaid gown was already soaking through with a dark, sickening crimson. The heavy titanium rod that had been surgically anchored into my tibia three months ago had punched sideways under the violent torque of the fall. The contour of my lower leg looked broken, jagged, entirely wrong.
"Fallon, quit being so dramatic!" Sutton’s voice floated down from the landing, bright with laughter. She turned to the wedding planner, flicking her manicured wrist dismissively. "She always does this. If the spotlight isn't on her for ten seconds, she invents an emergency. Briany, did you get the angle? Tell me you caught her face when she slipped."
"Got the whole thing in 4K," Briany giggled, her thumb already dancing frantically across her screen. "The sound of her heel slipping is pure gold. TikTok is going to lose its mind."
Guests stood frozen with champagne flutes halfway to their lips. A few gasped, their eyes darting between my twisted leg and Sutton’s glowing, untroubled smile.
"Call an ambulance!" Julian, the groomsman who had offered me his arm minutes earlier, dropped to his knees beside me. His face was dead white. "Don't touch her! Her bone—God, Sutton, look at her leg! She's bleeding through the dress!"
Sutton’s laughter faltered, but only because the mood in the room had soured into uncomfortable silence. She slowly glided down the remaining stairs, her ivory designer gown whispering against the limestone. She didn't kneel. She stood over me, looking down like I had spilled wine on her carpet.
"Julian, you're overreacting," she said smoothly, keeping her voice pitched for the crowd. "Fallon, stop crying. You’re ruining your makeup, and we still have the full dinner shoot with the videographer. Just let Julian help you to a chair."
"Sutton... you tripped me," I gasped out. Every word felt like broken glass scraping my lungs. "You kicked my heel. You pushed me."
A micro-expression of pure, venomous irritation flickered across my sister’s face before vanishing behind her signature pageant pout.
"Don't lie just because you're clumsy, sweetie," she purred, leaning down just enough so only I could hear the razor beneath her tone. "Nobody likes a bitter cripple. Now shut up before you ruin my night."
Across the foyer, Harrison, her fiancé, finally pushed through the crowd. He took one look at my mangled limb, then at Sutton, who was already adjusting her diamond necklace in the reflection of a gold-leaf mirror.
"What did you do, Sutton?" Harrison whispered, his voice trembling with horror.
"I didn't do anything!" she snapped, dropping the sweet facade for a split second. "She fell! Why is everyone acting like I committed a crime?"
Sirens wailed in the distance, echoing off the historic mansion's high garden walls. As darkness edged into the corners of my vision, I stared up at my sister and cousin. Briany was still holding her phone up, capturing the blood pooling against the limestone.
They thought this was content. They thought my suffering was just another viral trend to boost their follower count before tomorrow’s lavish ceremony.
May you like
As the paramedics rushed through the heavy oak doors, the agony peaked, but beneath the blinding pain, something cold and unyielding calcified in my chest. If Sutton wanted a spectacle, I was going to give her one she would never survive.
***
