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Chapter 37

It started that day. I feel guilty, but the interval between when I go insane is getting longer and longer. And using the counteractive drug won’t help me much anymore, or it will make my condition much worse.

"Clive," I mumbled amidst the dim light of my room. I’m lying in bed while he sits in bed beside me. I can’t see most of his expressions, but his side profile is deeply reflected in my pupils.

He lowered his gaze and hummed in his baritone voice.

"What is it?" he asked carefully.

For some reason, it makes me think that I’m fragile and that any wrong word or move can trigger that madness within me. I hate this, but it's only in this rare moment when I’m sober that I can have a conversation with him.

"Something is wrong with me," I say with much certainty. I’m not dumb. I know that there is something horribly wrong with me. I want to accuse anyone, but it makes me wonder why.

Why is this happening? Am I truly insane? or some kind of substance within me? I don’t know.

Clive t
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