Chapter 3

The following day, I woke up in shock. The pain hit me immediately, and without pause, tears streamed down my face.

I attracted the servants' attention in this room but was ignored.

I fainted, and now I'm awake, which means I'm still alive.

[No!]

I screamed inwardly, wishing more than anything that I wasn't conscious at all.

Unfortunately, I don't have that peace of mind. By leaving this world, I will have peace of mind.

Michael would be happy about that. I felt a deep sense of loneliness.

They ignored the sound of crying, which sounded like moaning. The servants were cold; I guess they hoped I would wake up.

After I saw the IV in my hand, I pulled it out roughly. I didn't need to be saved. He had given the order not to provide me with food and water, meaning he got tired and wanted me to die.

Still not satisfied, I threw the pillow. The servants watched me with judging and condescending eyes. Some began to chuckle that I had made their work more difficult.

"She's gone mad."

I heard the whispered voice. I remember everything they did to me, those who wanted me to go crazy by ignoring and hurting me.

And I can also tell all these servants are bastards who don't hesitate to hurt me in some way.

Still on the bed, my body aches and hurts all over. No sound comes out except the moans that, to them, are beast-like. But it hurts my throat.

When the door opens, everyone closes their mouths, and I can smell the fragrance I hate. I look at him with sharp eyes that release tears.

The man finally appears, too, and a strange tremor is visible in his eyes. But I knew it was just my illusion because his heavy voice brought me to my senses.

"You made a mess again." Cold.

I was too poor mentally to imagine that the man would run around worrying about my condition. Repeatedly doing the same thing and showing how stupid I was.

I wished I could have the strength and be able to hit this man, break his bones, and make him truly feel the pain he deserved for everything he did to me.

My breathing got heavier as he approached.

"You shouldn't have made such a mess." I threw a pillow at him in response.

He looked at me with a slightly tilted head. Michael likes observing and does not understand my actions.

[you should have ignored me]

With those words, the man grabbed the pillow and threw it next to me. My body felt so scared of this man that it jerked, and my eyes closed.

"You want to die?" Michael was tired of me. But I'm more tired of his attitude, which brings me frustration.

When he treats me like yesterday, I wish God would take my life.

I force myself to keep eye contact with him and can't process what I am actually looking at. His eyes are reddened, and the bottom looks blackened. He looks messed up. Make it not worry me, like I used to do.

Smirk. [are you going to kill me?]

[kill me]

I challenged him. I held my breath as I waited for him to say something.

He didn't respond to me right away. The man looked down. My increased heartbeat tells me that I'm so angry with him.

He moves quickly, raising my hand to prevent making the gesture he hates so I can answer him. I confirm if he's going to do another bad thing. It's a firm grip when he's supportive and in front of me.

"I won't divorce you, won't kill you."

Why?

"That's too good for you. And if you want to blame people for the treatment you received, you should blame your father."

He managed to make my sadness increase. My eyes fluttered violently.

Michael had never met my father at all. The memories of my father are still tightly stored in my memory and caused me to also have a severe anxiety disorder because of his death eight years ago.

My father was a policeman. He was on the straight and narrow. Very different from Michael.

I remember that my father always tried to do his job well and said that he was an honest cop because if he wasn't, then the criminals would be on the loose.

Michael didn't know my father well.

I stare at him more intently. He wanted to confuse me with memories of my father. Michael often heard about me missing my father and wishing that he could be in heaven.

But to reply to his words with both hands held, only a groaning sound came out. As I know, when he grinned, he really liked the anger that exploded on me. He appreciated that by then releasing my hand grip.

"You think your father is a good man?"

[Yes!]

He's such a good father that even when working late, he'll take the time to call and talk to me.

But I never expected this man to grab my face and kiss my lips so roughly. He dominated me to tell me my helplessness.

"Your father is nothing more than an asshole, and his son is making a mess. You should at least know yourself, Lenka." He says in a firm voice, loud enough to fill this room.

Even though I know the servants heard it, I don't care about that anymore. I will hate him the same, no matter what.

[You are an asshole!]

There is only so much suffering that I can expect from the start. It all started with a lie.

After a long time of the two of us staring at each other, the man finally got off the bed and was still staring coldly.

"If she pulls out the IV again, attach it again. If she refuses to eat and drink, force her."

He made me squeeze my hand very firmly. His arrogance was painful. He acted as he pleased because he had the power.

As he walked out of the room, my eyes stared at him back very intently, wishing that it could pierce his back and make his die.

Now, I understood the depths of actual pain. My tears had stopped flowing. It felt futile if I did so.

I refuse to be punished any longer by him.

The waiter roughly put the IV back in my hand. They did it on purpose but seemed surprised that I didn't respond with pain but rather with a sharp-eyed stare at him. The waiter looked down.

It's common for servant to understand how to give first aid.

No, no, no, I simply don't care about the circumstances in this family anymore. The relationships between the mafia are complicated and deceitful. I wish I could leave here and they were destroyed.

I continue my life, ignore the pain in my chest, and fill my calm with food that I don't feel at all anymore.