Noel rushed over, pressing his hands over my wound, his face a mix of shock and panic.

Blood seeped through his fingers.

I muttered weakly, “Get away!”

He didn’t move, desperately trying to stem the flow and shouting loudly, “What are you standing there for? Call an ambulance!”

In the darkness, Noel’s deep voice echoed, “What right do you have to hurt yourself or to die? Do you think this will make me let you go? You have to live…”

I didn’t want to hear him. I drifted back into unconsciousness.

When I woke again, I heard Lydia’s father’s voice.

“She’s not listening now. What do we do? All our...