As I drove towards the hospital, it appeared deserted. Since I was unfamiliar with the city, maybe it wasn't in the best area or had limited visiting hours. That would explain the almost empty parking lot. The ambulance would have taken my parents to the nearest hospital, even if it was run down.

I called my uncle to get my parents' room numbers when I arrived, but he told me to meet him outside. I ran to him as soon as I left the car.

"How are they?" I asked after I hugged him hello.

"There hasn't been a change. Let me bring you to them now," George answered before leading me into the building.

As I looked around the hospital waiting room, I couldn't help but notice the disarray. The front desk was empty, and there was no one in sight. The waiting area was dimly lit, with a solitary flickering light overhead. The chairs were old and worn, some with tears in the upholstery. The walls were stained and peeling, and the air smelled more mildew than disinfectant. My senses were on high alert as I tried to make sense of the eerie silence surrounding me.

I tried to wriggle my hand free from my uncle's tight grip and asked, "What kind of hospital is this?" My heart raced as I struggled to make sense of the situation.

"An abandoned one," he answered without letting go. With a wave of his hand, several other black-clad men appeared, and one of them grabbed my other arm and began to pull me forward as I struggled.

A chill crept through my veins as they forced me into a room, seeping into every corner of the desolate space. The room, likely once a surgical suite, now lay in ruins, its faded walls bearing the scars of neglect and decay. Cold metal surfaces gleamed dully under the feeble light, remnants of the sterile environment it once upheld. Shadows danced across the walls, casting eerie shapes that seemed to mock our presence.

In the center of this haunting portrait, my heart sank at the sight of my parents, bound and helpless in chairs that creaked ominously with every movement. Above them, a harsh beam of light descended from the ceiling, casting them in an unwavering spotlight as though they were performers on a stage of despair.

My mother's face, usually a portrait of resilience, was contorted with a mixture of fury and terror that sent shivers down my spine. Her eyes, once warm and reassuring, now blazed with a ferocity I had never witnessed before.

Beside her, my father slumped, his weary form betraying the toll of whatever ordeal had brought us to this place. A gash marred his cheek, a crimson trickle staining my mother's shoulder where his head lay, a silent testament to the violence that had befallen him.

The black-clad man ushered me to an empty chair nearby; his grip tightened around my arm as he dragged me further into the nightmare. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I took my place.

"I wonder why dispatching you proved to be such a formidable task over the years. This has been so easy," George mused, his chipper voice contrasting the tense silence that enveloped us after his man finished securing my arms. My thoughts spiraled in disbelief at the surreal but oddly familiar turn of events.

A series of questions swirled through my mind, each like a relentless barrage against the fragile facade of my strength. Where were Lisa and her mother? Had they unintentionally assisted into the web of deceit spun by my uncle, which had trapped all of us? Were they just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of his malevolent intent? Or were they willing participants in his scheme?

"Why are you doing this?" I wailed loudly, tears welling in my eyes as I struggled to control my emotions.

George responded to the question with a nonchalant shrug and a hint of amusement in his eyes. "For money and power, obviously," he said, his voice betraying a hint of cynicism.

"I thought you didn't care about any of that," I protested, my mind racing as I wondered if my message would reach Robert or Beth in time. The thought of being trapped here with no way out sent shivers down my spine. If they did see my message, would they have time to send someone to save us before it was too late?

"Nicole, you're still so painfully innocent, unlike your mother. She's always been wary of me, along with your grandfather. That's why he cut Becky out of the family business, isn't that right, Catherine?" With a sinister grin, he dragged a chair to the front, settling in to address us directly as his henchmen exited.

The pungent scent of gasoline wafted through the room, a chilling realization dawning upon me as I connected the dots of his twisted scheme. My heart sank as I understood the horrifying conclusion awaiting us: my life would soon be engulfed in flames once more.

"Yes, my father didn't trust you; his instincts had always been impeccable," my mother answered coldly. "That's why you got Becks pregnant, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure I needed the pregnancy to keep your sister, but it definitely sealed the deal. She wanted so much to be loved and appreciated and was so suggestible," George replied with a laugh. As they spoke, I couldn't help but think of the life growing inside me. I was relieved that I hadn't told Robert about the baby because now he would only have to mourn one loss. Beth wouldn't be so cruel as to tell him about his unborn child.

"Why now?" my mother asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

"As I said, despite my best efforts, all of you have proven quite difficult to dispose of. I mean, Nicole, you survived an unplanned swim in the middle of the bay. Who is lucky enough to have the coast guard nearby when they are pushed overboard? And, Catherine, your relentless car repairs have made it difficult to sabotage them," George explained, the first hint of anger and frustration seeping into his voice. "So, I was attempting a different approach by forcing your company to go public, but your daughter's boyfriend interfered very effectively. The final straw was when I lost my only puppet in the Lamb family."

"Tim? He was working with you?" I sputtered, trying to connect the lines from my past life and this one. Uncle George had been the one behind the scenes directing everything.

"Unknowingly, I was using his resentment and power hunger, but your boyfriend found him a better target." George stood up and moved his chair against the wall. He sneered when one of the men walked back into the room and whispered in his ear.

"Well, it seems your boyfriend is more cautious than you are," George huffed angrily. He then turned to me and held out his hand to another one of his men. The man nodded and handed George a handgun. George then pointed the gun at each of us one by one before landing on me. "Maybe I should start with you since your meddling man has significantly lowered my chances of success."

"George, stop, she is so young," Catherine cried, her wavering voice breaking my heart. She shifted but couldn't move any closer to me without letting my unconscious father fall.

The tears finally streamed down my face as I looked into Uncle George's cold eyes. "I thought we were friends," I whispered, my voice trembling with fear. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine, and raised a weapon, aiming it at my chest. The cold metal glinted in the dim light of the room, and the weight of his betrayal hung heavy in the air.

"I must admit, I truly enjoyed spending time with you, and Marcus will be genuinely upset to lose you as one of his artists. You were one of his most reliable income sources. You really should have pursued art and not let your mother persuade you into the business. If you had, I might have been able to ignore you," George explained before pointing the gun at my father instead of me.

"No!" I screamed, trying to move my chair in front of my father. The chair wobbled as I lurched forward, crashing on the floor in front of my mother's legs. I struggled to get up as I heard George Riley's laughter.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Nicole. You will be underground soon enough."

I tried to turn my head, but the chair positioned me so I could only see my mother's horrified face. My eyes shut automatically when the sound of a gunshot rang through the room.

"What the.." George's confused yell drew my eyes open, and my mother's shock turned to a smile as another group of black-clad figures swarmed around us.

"No, you will not win!" George yelled again, and another gunshot reverberated through the room, followed by a sharp pain exploding in my back.

"Nick, neutralize the target," Anita's voice ordered as she knelt beside me and pressed something against my back. "Ms. Mason, we've got you. Mr. Lamb is on his way. Please stay with us." Her calm voice held an edge of panic I had never heard from her before, and I met her concerned eyes. I guess we had become friends. It was nice to die in the arms of a friend this time.

"Nicky," my mother screamed as I lost grip on reality. "Oh God, she's fading. Someone get her to a hospital now!"

"Mom," I rasped. "Tell Robert I love him. I never told him that. And tell him not to blame himself. This was fate. He couldn't fight against it."

"You tell him yourself," she ordered as she grabbed my hand and pulled my chin up to look her in the eyes. "You tell him yourself!"

***

As soon as my eyelids fluttered open, I was met with a bleak and colorless void. It had startled me before, but this time, I was expecting it.

"You're back again," a woman announced next to me, and I turned to face her. She was standing so close that I could see the fine age lines crisscrossing her face beneath her glasses. Her warm smile accentuated each wrinkle, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. "You are an interesting character," she said.

"Is it over?" I asked, moving to sit up on the metal bed. Noticing all my pain had gone again.

"Oh, far from it," she answered with a chuckle.

"What do you mean?" Fear clutched at my heart. Was I going to have to relive everything again?

"You are not supposed to be here. Close your eyes and go back in," the mysterious woman said as she pushed me on the shoulder. Her push hurt more than it should have. "Please try again and get to the proper ending this time."

WC1821

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