Chapter 3

I struggled to get up and fell off the bed with a heavy thud.

The IV needle tore out of the back of my hand and splattered drops of blood across the bedsheet.

In the end, I still could not stand.

Just then, footsteps approached from outside the door. A nurse had probably heard the noise.

I held my breath.

However, I soon heard Yelena’s impatient voice from the hallway.

“He recovered a long time ago. I think he’s just faking it. He’s causing trouble over and over again. He just can’t stop.

“Don’t bother with him. The more you care, the worse he gets.

“Julian, the driver’s at the door. Let’s go.”

The footsteps faded away, and no one pushed the door open.

I stared straight at the knife nearby.

I looked at it for a long time until my eyes felt sore and became swollen.

Yelena had been getting careless lately.

In my memory, ever since I started self-harming, she had never left anything within my sight that I could use to hurt myself.

I tried to push myself up again, but pain erupted from deep inside my body and the old injuries in my legs.

My arms weakened, and I crumpled back down.

My whole body hurt. I curled up on the floor and struggled to catch my breath for a long while.

It would be great if I were dead.

I would not feel pain anymore if I were dead.

With that thought, I clawed at the floor and crawled bit by bit toward the knife.

Shards of glass from the IV bottle pierced my palms and knees, which left a trail of blood behind me, but I did not even feel it.

Finally, I grabbed the knife.

Without hesitation, I slashed it across my wrist.

Among the old crisscrossing scars on my wrist, a fresh red gash instantly bloomed.

For some reason, I suddenly thought of Yelena.

The wounds on her body were actually no fewer than mine.

Maybe it really was the Smith family genes at work. I had also never been the obedient and gentle type.

At eighteen, I was just about to start college, but I ended up in that alley.

I broke down, screamed, smashed everything I could reach, and turned the blade on myself again and again.

Yelena would snatch the knife away and stab herself instead.

Blood would spurt out, but she seemed to feel no pain. She would just use her clean hand to wipe my face over and over.

Back then, I did not cry, but my face would be wet from Yelena’s tears.

After that, no matter how much pain I was in, I never hurt myself again.

I was afraid that she would worry, feel guilty, and cry. I was even more afraid that she would bleed alongside me.

However, it was all an act.

She had even hired those thugs herself.

Even her becoming a psychiatrist was just so that she could use her professional knowledge to keep me erratic and control my condition.

My strength drained away with the blood, and I slumped against the corner of the wall.

Suddenly, I was laughing and crying at the same time.

When one was about to die, I supposed one would feel a little more aggrieved than usual.

“I didn’t stick a needle in his head… I didn’t steal his stuff… I wasn’t causing trouble…”

My voice grew softer and softer until even my sobs would not come out in the end.

I collapsed weakly in a pool of blood, and my vision slowly went dark.

Right then, the door abruptly burst open.