Chapter 2
As the door slammed shut, I said, "If you leave now, don't ever come back."
The only reply was the elevator's ding as it went down.
"System," I said, looking at the mess on the table, "I'm giving up."
There was a time when he'd spend the whole night feeling guilty for breaking a promise, and would come running back in the middle of the night just to apologize.
But when did it become too much effort to even fake it?
It seemed to start after Sophie came back from abroad.
She began popping up everywhere in Sebastian's life.
I started feeling insecure, picking fights with Sebastian, and getting anxious and paranoid.
Sophie kept pushing my buttons on purpose, and depression had already left me broken and battered.
She just kept rubbing salt in my wounds.
She knew I was sick, but that only made her more relentless, pushing me even further.
She sent me photos of her and Sebastian in bed, showing off the diamond ring he gave her.
She even called me when my depression was at its worst, to flaunt it. "Sebastian spent the night at my place. He said you're nothing compared to me."
Every word was a dagger dipped in poison, plunging deep into my chest.
I told Sebastian about my illness, but he dismissed it, saying I was throwing a tantrum.
When I broke down and started throwing things, he said I was emotionally unstable.
When I was so miserable I couldn't sleep all night, he brushed it off as thinking too much.
*****
When I grabbed the blade and dragged it across my wrist, I couldn't even tell if I was still alive.
I lay in the bathtub, the warm water slowly turning a pale pink.
My phone screen was still glowing, Sophie's last voice message echoing through the room. [Sebastian said that even if someone like you died, nobody would give a damn.]
Her laugh was like nails on a chalkboard, scraping at my nerves.
I gazed up at the water stain on the ceiling, and in my daze, it almost morphed into a sneering face.
The gash on my wrist was deeper than I'd expected. Blood bubbled up, racing into the water and blooming into haunting, crimson flowers.
Strangely, I couldn't feel any pain at all. Instead, there was this weird sense of freedom.
My phone buzzed again.
I could barely manage to glance at my phone. It was a photo from Sophie.
Sebastian had his arm around her waist, whispering something in her ear.
The text: [He said even if you died right now, he wouldn't even come back to take a look.]
My fingers twitched involuntarily, knocking the fruit knife off the edge of the bathtub.
The blade hit the floor with a sharp, metallic clatter.
The housekeeper let out a terrified scream and bolted.
As my consciousness started to fade, I heard the front door being kicked open.
The moment Sebastian kicked the bathroom door open, his eyes widened in horror.
The sight of glaring crimson was everywhere. My blood wound across the tiles, leaving a shocking trail.
He stumbled, his knees crashing to the floor, not even feeling the impact. His trembling fingers pressed desperately against my bleeding wrist.
"Wake up, Avery. Avery, look at me!" he shouted, his voice rough. "Call an ambulance. Now!"
He yelled toward the door, but his arms carefully gathered me into his embrace, as if I really was his most precious treasure.
In the ambulance, Sebastian clenched my hand, refusing to let go even when the doctor tried to pry him off to check my injury.
"Hang in there, Avery. Please. I can't live without you," he begged.