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Chapter 3:

As the day wore on and the full weight of James's condition settled upon Ivy, she felt utterly submerged. She had no savings, no insurance, and didn’t have a well-paying job. Years ago, she had dropped out of high school, barely halfway through her senior year, seeking escape in heroin at the age of twelve. The subsequent eight years were a relentless descent into addiction, a force that consumed her life, transforming her into someone unrecognizable until the day she overdosed. She had been fortunate to survive, her heart having stopped, a grim contrast to the countless others she had lost. Ivy had believed those days of active addiction were firmly in the past.

She thought back to when she found out she was pregnant. The metallic tang of the workshop, her former makeshift home, rose in her memory, bringing with it the fear and desolation she had felt. Barely twenty-seven, she had been lost in the grip of a meth addiction, another consequence of a life that seemed determined to break her. The pregnancy, however, was a stark and necessary jolt. It spurred her to fight for sobriety and build a life for herself and her daughter, Alice Elaine – a name carefully chosen to honor her grandmother from her father’s side, and James’s mother’s middle name. Alice, that precious child, was the improbable miracle Ivy never felt she deserved. Motherhood was both the greatest joy and the most profound challenge she had ever faced. Driven by an intense desire to be the loving parent she had in her own father, Ivy battled the enduring trauma inflicted by her mother – trauma so severe, a therapist had explained, it had physically altered her brain. Thinking of Alice, Ivy grappled with the incomprehensible cruelty that could lead a mother to harm her own child.

She had met James two years earlier and their meeting was like a siren’s song, luring her back into the dark abyss she had barely escaped. His blue eyes had promised salvation, a love that could fill the void left by the drugs embrace. But the high of his love had been as destructive as the drugs she had left behind. He had come with his own addiction, a love for meth that had torn through her world like a tornado, leaving a path of devastation she had not seen coming, but should have.

In the early days, she had been blind to the signs. The way his eyes would glaze over, the erratic behavior that grew more frequent, the lies that became a second language. It had started with a simple request for a favor, a way to help him out of a jam. Before she knew it, she was caught up in his world, the allure of the power and the money too strong to resist.

But the high didn’t last. Then the physical abuse started. The first time he hit her, it was like a bolt of lightning, leaving her stunned and trembling on the kitchen floor. The second time, she had seen it coming, the storm clouds gathering in his eyes, but she was powerless to stop it. And with every strike, every bruise, she felt herself slipping back into the darkness she had fought so hard to escape. The drugs had never hurt her like this, never made her feel so worthless and trapped.

Yet she made excuses. She told herself that James was just stressed, that he didn’t mean it, that it was all her fault for pushing him too far. She had been down this road before, the path of addiction, and she knew the signs. But love, or what she thought was love, was a more potent drug than any she had ever known. It whispered sweet nothings in her ear, convincing her that she could save him, that together they could conquer their demons.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the abuse grew worse. The bruises grew darker, the apologies hollower. And with each blow, she felt a piece of herself shatter, like the mirror in their bedroom that had reflected their shattered dreams. She had been down this path with other men, men who had promised to love her but ended up trying to break her. Yet she had always managed to pick up the pieces and start anew. But this time was different. This time she had Alice to think about, a little girl who deserved a better life than the one she had been born into.

The whispers of doubt grew louder in her mind, echoes of her mother’s cruel words that had haunted her for so long. “No one will ever love you with the way you act,” her mother had spat at her. “You’re too much for anyone to handle. You will never find a good man.” And with every bruise, every tear, Ivy feared her mother’s prophecy was coming true, every single person she had tried to have a relationship or friendship all eventually told her she was too much. She feared she was destined to repeat the cycle of pain that had been her inheritance.

Her past love life had been a tragic playlist of men who had promised salvation but had ended up becoming the very monsters she had sought to escape. Each one had shown their true colors in their own horrific ways, leaving her with scars that ran deeper than the tattoos on her skin. Yet she had clung to the hope that James would be different, that their love would conquer their addiction.

Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, she didn’t notice the shadowy figure that had entered the quiet sanctuary of the hospital chapel. It was not until a sweet voice spoke from directly behind her that she realized she was not alone. She whirledaround, her heart hammering in her chest, knocking over the prayer bench she had been kneeling at. As she realized who it was a wave of embarrassment washed over her.

A nurse, with features softer than the sheets that lined the hospital beds, offered her a gentle smile. “I am sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me come in,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to the chaos in her mind.

Her heart, which had been hammering in her chest like a desperate prisoner, began to slow its frantic pace. “It’s alright,” she replied meekly, the color rising in her cheeks as she bent to right the overturned bench. “I’ve had a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

The nurse offered her a hand; her eyes filled with genuine concern. “Can I get you anything? Some water, perhaps?” Her gentle touch was a stark contrast to the harshness of the world outside the chapel’s doors. For a moment, she allowed herself to be comforted by her kindness, the warmth of her hand a temporary balm to the chill that had settled into her bones.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice a whisper in the hallowed silence. “It’s just…everything’s happening so fast.” She looked up at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to tell Alice that her father is dying.”

“Alice,” she mused, her tone gentle. “How old is she?”

“Six,” Ivy replied, her voice strained with emotion. “And she means the world to me.”

The nurse nodded, her expression a mix of understanding and sympathy. “I can imagine,” she said. “Butyou cannot carry this burden alone. You will need to find a way to tell her.”

Her gaze drifted to the stained-glass window, the light casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the cold, hard floor. “I know,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “But how do you explain to a child that their father is dying?”

The nurse's expression grew solemn, her eyes reflecting the pain of countless patients’ pain she had witnessed. “You tell her the truth,” she said firmly. “But in a way she can understand. That her father is extremely sick and the doctors are doing all they can.”

“But what if that’s not enough?” Ivy whispered, her voice cracking. “What if she wants to know why?”

The nurse’s grip on her hand tightened, a silent promise of support. “You tell her that love is the most powerful force in the universe. That it is what makes us fight, even when we know we might not win.” she paused, her gaze meeting hers with a knowing look. “And when she is ready, you will tell her the rest of the story. But for now, let her have her innocence.”

Ivy’s chest heaved with the weight of her words, the sobs shaking her body as she nodded. She didn’t know this woman, but her kindness was like a beacon in the storm that had become her life. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you for understanding.”

The nurse's gaze grew serious, her eyes searching hers for a moment before speaking.

“Miss, I may know of someone who can help you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Someone with… extraordinary capabilities.”

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?” she managed to whisper through her sobs.

The nurse’s eyes grew intense, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “There is a man… a powerful man. Some say he is a monster, others a savior. You heard of him, Vice.”

Ivy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Vice?” she gasped. “The supervillain?”

The nurse nodded solemnly. “The very same,” she confirmed. “I know it sounds insane, but he is rumored to possess powers beyond our understanding. Some say he can heal the incurable, grant life where there is none.”

Her eyes searched hers, desperation etched into every line of her face. “Is it true?” she asked, hope seeping into her voice for the first time in weeks. “Can he save James?”