During conditioning drills, my coach boyfriend padlocked me inside a scalding 120-degree storage shed to please his best friend. He called my heart palpitations and severe collapse fake, tossed the key into the sewer, and sealed the vents. By the time bolt cutters broke the door open, my body was already cold. Now, he crawls beside my lifeless body, screaming for forgiveness—completely shattered to learn that dead girls don't come back to life.
