Chapter 3 - The Shattered Glass
The laughter from the backyard patio stopped instantly.
Rachel burst through the sliding glass doors into the sunshine, holding Rosie’s limp body like a shield. Several relatives sitting near the patio table gasped, dropping their paper plates.
Natalie was standing by the barbecue grill, a wine glass still in her hand. Her face hardened, annoyed rather than alarmed.
“Rachel, stop making a scene,” Natalie snapped, stepping forward. “She’s just sleeping off a tantrum. I gave her a drop of children’s syrup to calm her down so she wouldn't ruin Chloe’s cake-cutting.”
“That wasn't children’s syrup!” Rachel screamed, tears streaming down her face as she looked wildly around the circle of family members. “It’s Lorazepam! Greg’s prescription sedatives! Look at her! She’s not breathing right! Someone call 911! Please!”
Uncle Howard shifted uncomfortably, pulling out his phone. “Maybe we should call—liberty’s sake, the kid looks blue—”
“Put that phone away, Howard!” Natalie shrieked, her voice suddenly escalating into a furious, shrill pitch. She marched across the patio, grabbing a fresh, unopened bottle of red wine by the neck from the patio counter. “Nobody is calling anyone! You’re going to ruin Chloe’s birthday over a theatrical little stunt? You always have to make everything about you and your sickly brat!”
“Get away from me!” Rachel yelled, turning to shield Rosie as Natalie lunged closer.
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Natalie screamed.
Before anyone could intervene, Natalie swung the heavy glass wine bottle like a baseball bat.
CRASH.
The thick glass shattered violently against the side of Rachel’s skull. A blinding flash of white light exploded behind Rachel's eyes, followed by a searing, wet heat as blood instantly drenched her hair and poured down her cheek.
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Rachel staggered under the blow, her knees buckling. She managed to twist her body at the last fraction of a second, throwing her arms entirely around Rosie to absorb the fall so her daughter wouldn't hit the concrete patio.
As Rachel collapsed onto the grass, the world spun into a dizzying, sickening blur. The last thing she saw before consciousness slipped away was her sister standing over her, holding the jagged neck of the broken wine bottle, shouting at the paralyzed guests that Rachel was just “hysterical.”
