Chapter 3She Stole My Last Breath

The sterile, bitter smell of rubbing alcohol was the first thing that brought me back.

I opened my eyes to the blank ceiling of the campus health center. An IV catheter was taped to the back of my left hand, pumping cold saline into my vein.

"Hey. You’re finally awake."

A crisp voice came from my right.

I turned my head. A girl with a sharp, chin-length bob and a training jersey sat beside the bed, damp hair plastered to her temples.

It was the voice from the track.

"I’m Piper," she said, reaching over to adjust a plastic cup of ice water with a bent straw, bringing it to my lips. "Take tiny sips. The attending doctor said your oxygen levels dipped below eighty percent. If we’d waited another five minutes, your brain would have started taking damage."

I took a weak sip, my raw throat protesting the swallow. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Piper said, pulling her chair closer. Her expression curdled into pure irritation. "Those two guys out there... who the hell were they?"

I stared down at the thin hospital sheet. "One’s my brother. The other’s my boyfriend."

Piper slapped her own thigh so hard the metal bedframe vibrated.

"I knew it!" she hissed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "When you collapsed, those two absolute clowns didn't even check your pulse! They literally yelled at you for 'traumatizing' their precious little friend in the sundress!"

Her chest heaved with residual anger. "I swear, I wanted to clock both of them. Two drill instructors and I had to lift you onto the stretcher ourselves."

A bitter, quiet smile touched my lips.

Of course they had. Savannah came first. She always came first.

My phone buzzed against the bedside table.

I picked it up.

A message from Bryce:

"Hallie, if you’re awake, text me back. The staff said you were taken to the clinic. Look, whatever point you were trying to make, this has gone too far. Savannah had an anxiety attack watching you collapse and she’s lying down in the dorm with chest pains now. Can you grow up for once? Stop pulling these melodramatic stunts for attention."

"Stunts for attention."

I stared at the letters until they blurred.

I had nearly died on the asphalt, and he genuinely believed I had engineered respiratory failure just to steal the spotlight from Savannah.

Piper leaned over, caught sight of the text, and let out a string of curses so foul it could have stripped paint.

"Is his brain made of literal sewage?" She snatched the phone right out of my hand. "If your fingers are too weak to type, let me write back. I’ll make him cry."

"Don't bother," I said softly, reaching over to take the device back. I hit the side button and locked the display. "It won't change anything."

You can't wake someone who is only pretending to sleep. And you can't reason with someone whose conscience belongs to someone else.

"Hey," Piper lowered her voice, leaning in. "That girl... Savannah. Did she steal something of yours?"

I paused. "How do you know that?"

"The head trainer came in earlier to check your history. He looked through the university database and told the staff you never filed a waiver." Piper smirked, though there was venom behind it. "The coordinator went back to his desk to cross-check the physical forms. I was walking past the faculty wing after grabbing ice and heard him arguing on the phone."

"Cross-checking?"

"Yeah. The waiver in Savannah's file? The name typed into the clearance block was "Hallie Dominic". Someone had sloppily crossed it out with white-out and scribbled Savannah's name over it."

I closed my eyes.

Freshman year, the student union distributed one front-row pass per department for the annual showcase. Because I was class representative, the faculty director gave it to me.

I had saved it, telling Bryce I wanted to take him.

On the night of the performance, I stood outside the glass doors in the freezing December wind for two hours.

Bryce didn't show.

Jordan didn't show.

Later that night, Savannah posted a grid of photos on Instagram. She was seated dead center in the VIP row, Jordan on her left, Bryce on her right.

Her caption: "Protected by my two personal bodyguards tonight! Best seats in the house."

When I confronted them the next morning, Jordan hadn't even blinked. "Savannah’s petite, Hallie. She can’t see over the crowd from the bleachers. You’re tall—you could see the screen from the back row anyway."

And Bryce had simply shrugged. "It was freezing outside, so we went in early. We thought you got busy with homework."

Neither of them had sent a single text.

"Piper," I said, opening my eyes. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Name it. If it involves burning those three to the ground, I’m your girl."

"Go to the administrative office and get me a high-res photocopy of that altered waiver form. And while you’re there... pick up an emergency dorm transfer application."

Piper’s eyes flashed with fierce approval. "You’re moving out?"

"Yes."

"Hell yes! Our suite in South Tower has an empty bunk because a girl transferred out last week. You’re moving in with us."

She took off down the corridor like a whirlwind.

I leaned my head against the plastic pillow, watching the late-afternoon sun cut across the floorboards.

It was time to settle the debt.

By three o'clock, the saline bag was empty. The attending physician cleared me to leave with a strict warning to rest and avoid any physical exertion for forty-eight hours.

I thanked the staff, tucked the folder containing Piper's photocopies into my bag, and walked out into the heat.

The walk across campus wasn't long, but my steps were deliberate. Every stride felt like I was tracing the borders of the last three years of my life—measuring every single compromise I had ever made.

When I pushed open the door to our shared suite, the apartment was bustling.

"Jordan, this wood-fired margherita pizza is incredible! The burrata is so fresh!"

"If you like it, I'll order from that bistro every single night."

"Bryce, don't take my garlic knots!"

"Take them, take them. Everything's yours."

The three of them were huddled around Savannah’s coffee table, laughing over containers of expensive Italian takeout from downtown.

The chatter died the instant the latch clicked shut.

Jordan set down his paper plate, grabbed a napkin, and wiped his fingers. He turned around, his brow furrowed with annoyance.

"Look who decided to show up."