Leo Thompson’s dark green eyes turned cold as he stared silently at the girl lying on the bed.
"What’s wrong with her?" Even Emma Walker could only look at Vivienne with a trace of pity and concern.
Vivienne suddenly began struggling violently. Afraid she might hurt herself, Leo rushed forward and firmly restrained her within his arms.
"Vivienne, wake up... Vivienne..."
Yet contrary to his intentions, Leo’s embrace seemed to make things even worse.
"Let me go... I want to go home... It hurts... It hurts... Please help me... Ah... I want to go home... Home... Ah..."
Vivienne Blackwood cried out in despair. Her entire body trembled as she struggled and begged for mercy. Her voice was so hoarse that it sounded almost distorted beyond recognition.
Camila Hall covered her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears.
Anyone with common sense could tell that Vivienne’s condition was far from normal.
At that moment, a single thought flashed through everyone’s minds.
She must have been abused.
[Oh my God... What is this...?]
[This looks like some kind of PTSD.]
[I bet Vivienne Blackwood was abused somehow. Damn it, call the police right now.]
[No, how is that possible? Not long ago, Vivienne was still chasing after Adrian Voss with so much energy and enthusiasm. She couldn’t have developed trauma that severe so quickly, right? Besides, nothing like this ever appeared in any of her previous interviews.]
[That only means she’s extremely good at hiding it. I’m a professional, and I’m telling you that this kind of trauma usually takes years to form. PTSD often develops after severe physical or psychological trauma, followed by recurring panic attacks triggered by similar situations or specific stimuli. I believe Wen Yanyu most likely suffers from it as well. The symptoms are strikingly similar.]
Vivienne Blackwood’s trembling lips parted.
A sound escaped from her throat uncontrollably.
It was like the final scream of a dying creature.
Filled with terror.
Filled with despair.
It was not a cry for help.
Nor was it a plea for mercy.
It sounded more like a farewell.
No one knew what she had experienced, but merely hearing that sound made their hearts tremble.
Oscar Jones could not endure it any longer. He grabbed Leo’s shoulder and forcefully pulled him back.
"Let her go. Can’t you see she’s terrified of you?"
Leo’s expression darkened.
"She’ll only hurt herself even more," he ground out through clenched teeth.
Yet in the very next moment, Vivienne broke free from his arms and retreated into the corner of the bed, pressing herself tightly against the wall.
At some point, she opened her tear-filled eyes.
The tears poured down like a waterfall.
Her body was in such unbearable pain that sweat continuously soaked her skin. Simply opening her eyes and speaking seemed to consume every ounce of strength she had left.
And she was still trapped inside her nightmare.
The faces around her were terribly blurred.
She heard voices.
Whispers.
Words she could not understand.
Then suddenly, the curses and accusations she had heard millions—
No.
Billions of times—
Echoed through her mind once more.
"Die for us."
"A villain like you deserves to die."
"You damned witch. You deserve death."
"You’ll pay for touching my people with your life."
"Torture her until she remembers who she is."
...
Countless insults.
Countless torments.
And countless deaths.
Vivienne Blackwood had once believed that she had become numb.
That after enduring a hundred years across countless worlds—
After dying a hundred times in the most horrific ways imaginable—
She had finally become immune to pain.
But she was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Because pain screamed too loudly to be ignored.
The agony she had once locked away deep inside her heart surged forth like a flood, dragging her into chaos and tearing her apart piece by piece.
Her chest burned as though flames were devouring both her heart and her mind.
All that remained was sorrow.
All that remained was despair.
"Why...?"
Her voice was hoarse from crying.
Small.
Frightened.
Trembling.
Yet she continued asking stubbornly.
"Why me...?"
"Why did you choose me...?"
"I don’t want this..."
"Why do I have to suffer?"
"I hate it."
"I don’t want it."
Vivienne Blackwood wept.
Her cries shattered everyone’s hearts.
And though they could not understand her questions, those words carved themselves deeply into their memories.
The overwhelming pain ravaging her body only allowed her to string together a few simple words into sentences that were barely comprehensible.
"Mom..."
"It hurts..."
"It hurts so much..."
"I want to go home."
"I want to go back to my world."
"I’m tired..."
"Please..."
"Just let me die."
Even someone as playful and carefree as Arthur Williams could no longer bear listening to her desperate pleas.
His heart twisted painfully when he looked into Vivienne’s eyes.
Those eyes were devoid of vitality.
Like a lifeless corpse.
Empty of emotion.
Empty of desire.
A corpse quietly waiting to be buried.
"...Vivienne."
The moment he reached out his hand—
Vivienne screamed again.
She clutched her head with both hands, crying and begging for mercy.
"Stay away from me."
"I said stay away!"
"It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything!"
"Leave me alone!"
"Oh God... what do we do now?" Camila Hall’s tears would not stop falling as she looked at the curled-up girl with worry and pity.
Leo Thompson closed his eyes for a brief moment.
His fist tightened so hard that his nails tore into his palm.
After releasing a slow breath, he said,
"Get the doctor."
"Have him give her a sedative."
Vivienne Blackwood continued mumbling to herself, her pale face drenched in tears.
She could no longer distinguish reality from illusion.
So she chose to sink into despair once more.
After all, none of it mattered anymore.
Yes.
She could simply die again.
Just as she sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, losing every last desire to fight—
A voice suddenly reached her.
A voice that pulled her from the abyss of despair.
A voice that breathed life back into her once more.
She let out a heavy breath and slowly opened her large amber eyes, still shimmering with tears.
Vivienne Blackwood lifted her head with visible effort, hesitant and sluggish, as though even that simple movement exhausted her.
Her gaze slowly rose.
And before her, the blurred silhouette of a person gradually came into focus.