Chapter 2

After Mother left, I went back to bed.

The darkness pressed down like a weighted blanket, oddly comforting. I could just lie here until my body rotted away, or wait for the system to declare the mission a complete failure.

Time blurred before the doorbell rang again.

I ignored it. But the sound of the doorbell turned into pounding on the door.

"Regina, open up! I know you're in there!" It was Xavier's voice.

I slowly pushed myself up from bed. My legs nearly buckled when I stood.

The hallway light stabbed my eyes as I opened the door.

Xavier stood at the door. Beneath his white coat were dress pants. I glanced at his polished shoes. He must have come straight from his clinic.

He looked wrecked.

Bloodshot eyes, crooked tie, with a medical file in his hand.

For once, Xavier looked so out of sorts, unlike his usual professional self.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

My whisper barely carried.

Xavier's eyes dilated. He took a sudden step forward and gripped my wrist. "Good God, you're skin and bones."

I let him grab my wrist, limp as a rag doll.

The antiseptic smell on him reminded me of white, soulless hospitals.

Like some private one where Imogen lay. Her wrists must have been wrapped in white bandages, and Xavier ought to hold her hand.

"Regina?"

Xavier waved his hand before my eyes. "Are you listening?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Your mother said you're not well.

"I need to make a brief evaluation of your condition." Xavier's tone was gentle, the kind he used on his psychiatric patients.

"No need.

"Go back to Imogen. She needs you more than I do." I turned away and walked back inside.

Xavier followed me in and flipped the light switch.

I flinched over the sudden glare, so I raised my hands to shield my eyes.

"Dear God..."

Xavier took a sharp inhale.

Only then did I see myself clearly. The mirror showed a woman I'd never seen—crumpled pajamas, greasy and tangled hair, skeletal limbs with veins like spider webs, empty eyes. A complete living corpse.

"When did this start?"

Xavier used a tense voice now. He flipped open the medical file and scribbled notes.

"What?"

"This!

"Sorry. The suicidal intention, when did it start?" His voice cracked before he reined it in.

I tilted my head. "After the eighth canceled wedding? Or maybe the seventh."

Xavier's pen stilled.

He stared at me with a strange expression, as if he finally got to know me.

"You need a full assessment.

"This is worse than I thought," Xavier admitted finally.

"Worse than Imogen?" I let out a bitter laugh.

Xavier went rigid as if struck.

Just then, the doorbell rang again.

Xavier went to answer the door, and I heard Imogen's sickly-sweet voice. "Dr. Jensen, I came to check on Regina. I knew you would be here."

Imogen floated in like a butterfly. She wore a white dress with delicate lace bandages wrapped around her wrist. When she saw me, she covered her mouth dramatically. "Regina, what happened to you?"

I saw Imogen steal a look at Xavier and then lean closer to him on purpose.

Imogen pulled several bottles of pills from her designer bag. "I brought some medicine.

"Special prescriptions from Dr. Jensen—they work wonders."

She placed the medicine bottles on the table, right on top of the suicide note I'd prepared.

I'd forgotten to put it away. But Imogen didn't seem to notice it. She was putting on a show about her recovery for Xavier.

Imogen cooed, "I'm doing much better now, all thanks to Dr. Jensen. Last night I even made dinner by myself—well, it was just a simple salad, but..."

I watched her act and suddenly found it amusing.

This was how she'd always overshadowed me.

With these staged progresses, Imogen just made me look immature and inconsiderate.

Imogen leaned in close, her whisper barely audible. "Regina, you should take your meds on time.

"Enough with your suicide act to get Dr. Jensen's attention. I've played that card."

I nodded calmly. "I will, and I wish you happiness."

Imogen froze, clearly caught off guard by my response. She shot Xavier a look for help, but his gaze was fixed on the items atop my nightstand.

The sleeping pills, box cutter, and rope were arranged like some morbid art installation.

Xavier cut in, "Imogen.

"Go home. I need to speak with your sister alone."

Imogen was reluctant. "But—"

"Now."

Xavier's tone brooked no argument.

Imogen pouted and shot me a venomous glare before leaving. I waved at her, like a wind-up doll.

As soon as the door closed, Xavier snatched up the medicine bottles and examined them. "These aren't what I prescribed for her. Where did she get them?"

I shrugged.

It didn't matter to me.

Xavier dropped to his knees before me and gripped my shoulders. "Regina, listen to me. You need treatment. Real treatment."

There was something I'd never seen in his eyes—fear.

How strange. Did a psychiatrist also get afraid?

"Why?" I asked. "Doesn't Imogen need you more?"

Xavier's grip tightened. "Imogen... Your condition is different."

"How?"

I tilted my head at Xavier. "Because she cries for help, while I just give my life up without telling anyone?"

Xavier went sheet-white.

He yanked me into a bone-crushing embrace. It was so tight I could barely breathe.

"I won't let you die," Xavier whispered into my ear with his voice shaking. "I'll never leave you alone again."

I rested against his shoulder and smelled the familiar scent of his cologne.

How ironic—this was the embrace I'd longed for all along, yet now my heart didn't skip a beat for it.

A message popped up from the system. [Target's affection level showed abnormal fluctuations. Analyzing cause...]

I closed my eyes.

Too late, Xavier.

I didn't even have the strength to hate him anymore.