ALICIA
I heard the sound of soft footsteps before I felt the warmth of a hand on mine. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and roses—someone must’ve brought flowers.
“Good morning,” a gentle voice said. “Alicia, can you hear me?”
I nodded slowly, my heart thudding. My eyes were still bandaged, but the doctor had promised—if the surgery went well, today might be the day I’d see again.
I felt trembling fingers at the sides of my face, unwrapping the gauze layer by layer. My palms grew damp. What if it didn’t work? What if I opened my eyes and there was still nothing?
The last piece of gauze slipped away.
“Okay,” the doctor whispered. “When you’re ready… open your eyes.”
I took a shaky breath and slowly let my eyelids part.
At first, everything was blurry—just swirls of light. But then…
Shapes began to form.
A ceiling. A bright window. The blurred outline of a woman in white.
Tears spilled before I could stop them.
“I… I see…” My voice cracked. “I can see.”
A sob caught in my throat as I turned, blinking through the haze.
The doctor in white hovered beside me, but my gaze drifted past her……to the woman standing in the corner with her arms crossed tightly. Amara Blake, the one person who had unexpectedly gotten up to fight for me. Her face came into focus—tired, but smiling through tears of her own.
“You kept your promise,” I whispered.
She stepped forward and took my hand, covering it with hers.
“I told you I would,” she said. “You’re not alone anymore, Alicia. This is just the beginning. You’ve got your life back now.”
Listening to her words, the past came flooding back—so vivid, it felt like I’d been pulled into it against my will.
I remembered the sound of keys jingling. The heavy slam of a cell door. The click of my chains being unlocked. I remembered the guard’s voice—flat, almost bored—as he said, “You’re being released.”
Released?
I didn’t believe it. Not at first.
Then, I was led down a hallway I thought I’d never walk again. At the end of it stood a woman.
“I’m Amara Blake,” she said. “I’m here on behalf of the Evelyn Foundation. I’ll be taking you with me.”
With me. Not to someone. Not to the police. With her.
My steps faltered. I pulled back slightly, squinting even though I couldn’t see. “What do you mean, taking me with you? Who the hell are you?”
She didn’t flinch. “I told you. Amara Blake. Executive Director.”
Then, without giving me time to ask more questions, she guided me gently—but firmly—to a waiting car outside the gates. The world was loud and overwhelming out there. Cars. Wind. Voices. I hadn’t heard the city in almost a year. I stumbled.
She steadied me. “Careful.”
I didn’t thank her.
She opened the door and helped me inside like I was made of glass. She didn’t sit in the front with the driver. She climbed in right beside me in the backseat, like this was personal.
As the car pulled away from the prison, I curled my legs under me like I needed to be small again.
“Who are you really, and what do you want from me?” I asked. My voice was cold, flat—armor I’d worn for too long.
She let out a slow breath before answering. “We’ll talk more when we get to my office.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s code for ‘I’m lying.’ I’ve learned the hard way—people don’t help you without a reason. So don’t pretend you’re doing this out of kindness.”
She sighed. “Then let me give you a reason.”
I folded my arms. “I’m listening.”
“The Evelyn Foundation,” she said, “was created by our chairman— a man who lost his sister.”
I didn’t say anything.
“She was separated from him as a child. Years later, after he made a name and fortune for himself, he searched for her for nearly a decade. Eventually, he found her… in prison.”
I swallowed hard, but kept my mouth shut.
“She’d been sentenced at eighteen for a crime she didn’t commit. Thirty years. By the time he found her, her health had deteriorated. She’d already had one leg amputated after an untreated infection. She was bullied, starved, ignored. And when her second leg got infected… she just stopped trying. Stopped fighting. Stopped eating. No one noticed until it was too late.”
I clenched my fists.
“She died a day before he reached her. All he got back was a body.”
A lump formed in my throat.
Amara went on, her voice steady but low. “He made sure the people responsible paid. All of them. But even that didn’t bring him peace. So he created the Evelyn Foundation—named after her. He swore that others like her would be assisted. Especially those with disabilities. Especially those with no one.”
I turned my face to the window, refusing to shed a tear.
“He gets one chance every year,” she said softly. “One prisoner. He pulls all his strings, gets all the approvals, pays whatever it takes to set someone free. This year… that someone was you.”
I turned to her sharply. “Why me?”
“Because your case came across my desk,” she said. “Because you’re blind. Young. Because your story screamed of injustice. And maybe, because someone still believes you deserve a second chance.”
I don’t know why her story about Evelyn got to me.
Maybe it was the part about her legs being amputated, or the image of her lying in that cell, too tired to care anymore. Maybe it was the fact that I’d nearly become her. We were strangers, born into different tragedies, but somehow… we ended up in the same hell.
Still, I found myself asking the question before I could stop myself.
“Between me and this Evelyn,” I murmured, “who do you think had the more pathetic life?”
Amara sighed. “That’s not how I see it.”
“Well, I do,” I said, curling my arms around myself. “She died in prison. I was left to rot in one. Either way, we both lost.”
There was a pause. I didn’t expect her to answer.
But she did.
“I think both of you deserved better,” she said quietly. “And I’m sorry that the world didn’t give it to you.”
Her voice wasn’t pitying. Just honest. It made me bristle anyway.
“So where’s your mysterious chairman?” I asked, forcing indifference into my tone. “Are you taking me to him now for inspection? Or does he only show up to collect the pretty broken girls?”
She didn’t even flinch. “No. He just became a father for the first time. He’s taking time off to be with his child.”
I looked away, jaw clenched. A child. A family. Love.
Good for him.
“So it was you, then,” I said bitterly. “You picked me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her answer came slower this time. “Because… when I saw your file, I saw Evelyn again. I thought—if I could save even one person like her, maybe it would make some difference.”
I snorted. “Difference?” I laughed, sharp and joyless. “Lady, you should’ve just left me there. I’m blind. I’ve got nothing. No home. Not even a reason to keep breathing. You should’ve let me rot quietly and die like everyone expected me to. You’d have saved yourself the trouble.”
Silence.
Then, to my surprise, Amara reached over and took my hand.
Her palm was warm.
“You’re not alone anymore, Alicia,” she said, and somehow her voice didn’t waver. “No matter what it takes, we’re going to help you get your life back.”
I pulled my hand away. “Yeah right. Heard that one before.”
“You don’t have to believe me,” she replied softly. “Just let us try.”
A bitter smile twisted on my lips. “So? Where are we going, since you’re so full of hope and miracles?”
“To a hospital.” She replied quietly.
I laughed again—louder this time, unhinged.
“Oh, perfect,” I said, clapping once like it was a joke. “Now it makes sense. All that kindness and backstory and dramatic rescue? Just a setup. You’re harvesting my organs, aren’t you?”
“Alicia….”
“Don’t bother denying it,” I said, leaning back into the seat with a sigh. “It’s fine. Honestly. I’ve been ready to die for a while now. Might as well let someone make use of what’s left of me.”
There was a beat of silence before she spoke again.
“We’re not taking anything from you,” she said. “We’re giving you something.”
I turned my head away once again. I didn’t believe a word from her mouth.
But now, five days later, staring at a tall, well-dressed woman in navy-blue slacks and a crisp cream blouse, with a calm confidence about her—sharp, kind eyes and neutral smile, I was convinced that maybe—just maybe—miracles weren’t myths after all.
I could see.
My vision wasn’t perfect yet, but it was mine. And every time I blinked and still saw the world around me, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
The white walls.
The clean beds.
The steady hum of machines and nurses walking past in soft-soled shoes.
It was real.
And Amara Blake was real too. The woman who held my hand through surgery, who never once let me feel like a charity case. She said I didn’t owe her anything, but that only made me feel the weight of it more. Because people like her… they didn’t exist in my world. At least, not before now.
But none of this erased the past.
Miracles were not apologies.
They didn’t undo the cold nights on the cell floor.
They didn’t erase the memory of a stillborn baby I never got to bury.
They didn’t silence the screams I let out that night, or the silence that followed when no one came.
And they sure as hell didn’t redeem the two women who ruined me.
Patricia.
Diana.
I repeated the names in my head like a sacred vow.
One gave the order.
The other carried it out.
Both watched me fall and smiled like it was a game.
They thought I’d die in there.
But I’m alive.
I can see.
And I remember everything.
I will never forget their names. I will never forgive what they did.
Let them enjoy their days in peace while it lasts.
Because no matter how long it takes…
No matter how far I have to crawl or what I have to become…..
I will get my pound of flesh.
