Chapter 5 - The Unlikely Escape
Julian dragged me forcefully through the hospital hallway, completely ignoring the stares of passing nurses.
He flashed a fake medical badge, claiming he was a psychiatric doctor dealing with an unstable patient.
I tried to scream, but he pressed a firm hand against the back of my neck, pinching a nerve that sent sharp pain down my spine.
He shoved me through a pair of heavy wooden doors and threw me into Clara’s private room.
Clara looked up from her laptop, entirely unfazed by my sudden, violent entrance.
"I told you the amnesia was a lie," Clara sighed, closing her laptop with a soft click.
"She is just as stubborn and nosy as you described."
Julian locked the heavy door behind us and pocketed the key.
"It does not matter," Julian said, pulling a massive syringe from his jacket pocket.
"We will just have to speed up the timeline and do this the old-fashioned way."
I backed away from them, pressing my shoulders against the cold glass of the hospital window.
I was trapped on the fourth floor with absolutely no way out.
Clara walked toward me, her eyes completely devoid of any human empathy.
"Hold her arms down," Clara commanded, taking the lethal syringe from Julian’s hand.
Julian lunged forward, grabbing my wrists with terrifying strength and pinning them against the wall.
I kicked and thrashed, fighting with every single ounce of adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I slammed my knee directly into Julian’s groin as hard as I possibly could.
He grunted in severe pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to rip my right arm free.
I reached out and grabbed a heavy glass water pitcher resting on Clara’s bedside table.
I swung the pitcher with all my might, smashing it directly against the side of Clara’s head.
The glass shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, and Clara collapsed onto the floor with a loud scream.
The syringe bounced across the linoleum tiles and slid under the bed.
Julian roared in anger and recovered his balance, lunging toward my throat.
I did not hesitate for a single second.
I grabbed the heavy metal stand next to the bed and shoved it directly into his chest, knocking him backward.
I scrambled across the floor, grabbed the door key from his fallen jacket, and unlocked the door.
I sprinted out of the room and threw myself into the crowded hospital stairwell.
I ran down four flights of concrete stairs, my lungs burning and my hands covered in Clara’s blood.
I burst through the emergency exit doors and stumbled into the busy city street.
I hailed a passing taxi, threw a fifty-dollar bill at the driver, and told him to drive as fast as possible.
As the taxi sped away, I realized my purse and my cell phone were still locked inside that room.
I had absolutely no money, no identification, and no evidence left to prove my story.
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Then, the taxi driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and locked the passenger doors.
"Mr. Sterling said you would try to run," the driver said, pulling a gun from under his seat.
