She couldn’t take it anymore; she really couldn’t take it. This wolf was gradually invading her, gnawing at her thoughts and soul. She was completely under his control, yet it felt as if there was still a glimmer of hope. As long as everything went according to his arrangements and she carefully followed his rules, she could temporarily find refuge, but she couldn’t endure this humiliation.
This perverted man, for reasons unknown, had a special obsession with virgins. He was using her purity and life to threaten her, watching her tremble in his palm, constantly pleading.
Suddenly, a bold thought crossed her mind: if she were no longer a virgin, perhaps he would lose interest in her. But how could she rid herself of this virginity? She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own thoughts; they were both absurd and tragic. In this crazy world, anything could happen.
She seriously contemplated the possibility of this situation, the indecent scenes from the salon flashing through her mind. Once she did that, she wouldn’t be considered a virgin anymore. But he held supreme authority; no man in this house dared to lay a hand on her…
Abigail impatiently knocked on her bathroom door, interrupting her thoughts. “What are you still dawdling for? The General is calling for you in his room.”
She walked heavily into his room, seeing him sitting in a recliner in his pajamas, just out of the shower, cheerfully drying his golden hair with a white towel. She knew what he wanted and silently approached him, kneeling on the floor.
She understood he was accumulating his desires, growing larger like a snowball, and rather than being tormented day after day, it would be better to let the outcome come sooner, perhaps ending this torment. However, this choice was painful; she repeatedly interrogated her soul. He was high above, like the ruler of all things, a deity waiting for a sacrifice. Though she was humble, if there was even a one in ten thousand chance, she was willing to exchange her purity for freedom.
……
Her tears still fell, mourning for her purity.
……
Her hands were still bound, the messy white sheets stained with blood. She was like a young doe just shot by a bullet, convulsing and bleeding profusely, her dark eyes filled with both despair for her fate and a thirst for life. He leaned against the headboard, his long fingers pinching a cigar, slowly exhaling smoke rings, his ice-blue eyes leisurely watching her, continuing to appreciate her despair and struggle.
It had to be admitted that just moments ago, he had indulged in her body, transforming her from a girl into a woman. This subtle, decisive change was exactly what he wanted; for a woman, the most profound memory was undoubtedly the best release of satisfying one’s desires. It was power that granted him this glory, the ability to reshape women at will and treat them as playthings.
Overall, her performance was good, but this moment came a bit too quickly, not achieving his earlier purpose. He did not intend to delve deeper into this matter; he had not yet considered what to do next.
He extinguished the cigar. A woman who had lost her purity was, to him, a pile of rotting flesh. Even if the one who had just possessed her was him, what he wanted was the result. He stood up decisively, opened the second drawer of the cabinet, pulled out a black handgun, skillfully loaded two bullets, and chambered a round.
The cold muzzle was once again aimed at her. Nhanyi closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. It seemed she had lost the gamble; she had sacrificed her purity and would also lose her life.
But death, after all, was also a kind of liberation. At this point, she was not afraid of death; she only feared the struggle before suicide. If he could just shoot her right away, it would be a light relief. Her gaze became erratic, lost in thought.
Did humans really have souls? If so, where would the soul go after death? Although her body had been defiled by him, her soul was pure and innocent; surely it would enter heaven after death… Father, Mother, we can only meet again in heaven.
He squinted his ice-blue eyes, guessing what she was thinking. Struggling to the end was despair. Such a beautiful girl, ruthlessly torn apart, now facing the end of life—this was truly a tragedy. At this moment, she was particularly beautiful because she was infinitely close to a tragic fate.
