“Once the blood and swelling are released, the design will become even more vibrant, but remember, it must not get wet for the next few days.”
“Miller, I suddenly have an idea.” He fiddled with her body, examining the two tattoos on her chest and back. His gaze gradually lowered, and his hand stroked the smooth skin of her slender ankle. “Look, here, I want to ink a name.”
“What a good idea; no one has done this in this position before. What is her name?” Miller held the bloodied needle, his expression somewhat excited.
He squinted his ice-blue eyes. “No, what I want is my name.”Ruth’s violet eyes stared unblinkingly at the pool of crimson blood on the floor, the echoes of the girl’s screams still ringing in her ears. In her mind lingered the image of the girl, gasping for breath before fainting, pleading for her to end her life. Based on the instinctive sympathy women have for one another, she should have done it, but driven by her own instincts, she could think of nothing but escaping this place.
He emerged from the bathroom, his hands washed clean of blood. He shook his arm as if to rid himself of the blood that had clung to him. He saw her anxiously putting on her dress. “What, are you leaving?”
Ruth took a deep breath, adjusting the straps of her black stockings. “Ryan, I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be your shield anymore.”
He blocked her path, narrowing his icy blue eyes. “What do you mean by that? I could shoot her in the head right in front of you.”
“Of course you want to do that. You’ve thought about it countless times, but you’ve never acted on it.” sidestepped him, draping her fiery red fox fur scarf around her long neck.”You want her dead, you wicked woman.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of her?” Under the piercing gaze of his sharp, ice-blue eyes, Ruth lost the courage to utter any more lies. Her voice trembled slightly, “She… she’s just a little girl. Why do you have to be so cruel? I can see that it won’t be long before she takes her own life because she can’t bear it.”
“Suicide? Hmph, don’t even think about it.” The corners of his mouth curled up slightly, but his tone was chillingly cold.
Ruth couldn’t help but shiver. “Do you hate her that much? What has she done that is so unforgivable to make you hate her so? Even for the countess who betrayed you, you didn’t harbor such deep-seated hatred.”
“Deep-seated hatred?” He threw his head back and laughed a few times. “No, no, darling, I think you misunderstand me. I’m not seeking revenge.”
She exhaled, her violet eyes reflecting his figure. “You are a complete madman. I could teach her the skills, but God knows what you really want! Find someone else.”
He sat in a chair, coldly watching the alluring woman in black rush out the door. She ran down the stairs quickly; she couldn’t stay in this house for even a second longer.
Khanyi had lost count of how many times she had been awakened. Perhaps she thought that as long as there was a glimmer of hope for survival, she should hold on tightly. But she was too tired, both physically and mentally exhausted. Now, she just wanted to die. She had once feared death, believing it to be the best release.
She discovered that using shards of glass to cut along the artery of her wrist was not as difficult as she had imagined. The pain was nothing to her; after all, it was her first attempt at self-harm, akin to the first time she had used a needle during a medical course to practice on a classmate’s arm.
She was grateful that she still had some medical knowledge to locate the artery in her wrist. In truth, it no longer mattered; her hand was already useless. Even if the glass severed the tendons in her wrist, it didn’t matter.
Crimson blood flowed from her snow-white arm, and she was still shocked by the gushing flow, like a spring. She collapsed onto the cold floor, aware that life was slowly draining from her body. She still had love; she deeply loved her family back home, her friends, and even those who had once humiliated and oppressed her but still held a shred of kindness.
She felt grateful towards them. She also had hatred, hatred for not being able to kill that devil with her own hands, and hatred for her own weakness, for lacking the courage to continue fighting against him.
She did not intentionally choose this snowy night to end her life. There was a small window in the bathroom for ventilation, and outside, the world was a dull gray. In her eyes, a dazzling white seemed to appear, the souls of the deceased fluttering like snowflakes in the air.
