The Death That Drove Him Insane

Daniel Stewart came to pick me up, but the huge villa was completely empty. He kicked over a divider in the hall. "Helen Stewart! I don't have time for hide-and-seek. Come out right now!"

The divider crashed onto the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Only his echo answered him.

Covering his nose, he backed toward the door. After a moment, he continued, "You're a woman. Can't you have some self-respect? Think about how disgusting you looked when you came back last year.

"Even I couldn't stand seeing you. You're filthy and sickening! If Jennifer hadn't talked me out of it, I wouldn't have bothered. You'd be long rotten!"

At that moment, my soul stood right before him, weeping silently.

"I'm warning you right now, Helen. If you screw up again this time, I don't mind locking you up for another decade. Maybe that'll make you learn your lesson!"

He was done yelling, but there were still no signs of me. He waved impatiently at the housekeepers, urging them to search my room.

A few minutes later, they bolted downstairs, screaming as if they had seen a ghost. His assistant leaned in, trembling as she whispered, "Mr. Stewart, that phone call the other day should be true. Ms. Helen is already dead."

With a scowl, Daniel roared, "All of you shut up! How would she dare? She's just fishing for my attention by harming herself. She's been pulling that trick for ages!"

He rushed to the second floor, only to see streaks of blood all over the hallway walls. Frowning, he kicked open the guest room doors one by one.

"What kind of sick game are you playing now, Helen? Do you think I've spoiled you so much that you'll get away with this?"

I followed him upstairs, watching as he stopped before a locked door. There was a huge pool of dried blood under the doorframe.

…

Back then, Daniel had me locked up in this villa to quit my "addiction". Afraid that I would run away, he only allowed me to bring a few pairs of underwear and pajamas.

At first, I could still roam the villa. When the headaches hit, I would pace around the hallway. If the pain was too much for me to handle, I would bang my head against the wall to try to alleviate it.

Yet, the people keeping an eye on me grew irritated with my wails. Daniel never visited or even called, like he had forgotten I existed. Hence, they locked me inside the guest room on the second floor. They even added a sturdy lock outside to prevent me from escaping.

From then on, my life was confined to that small room.

Each time the pain kicked in, I would writhe on the small bed, rolling back and forth. When it got worse, I would slump by the door and slam my head against it. I would do it over and over again until blood ran everywhere.

Yet, I never dared to make a sound, no matter how much pain I was in. If I did, they would beat me up and punish me.