Declared Dead By My Family, I Returned From HellChapter 1
After being discharged from the psychiatric hospital, I became a designated driver.
I never imagined that tonight’s passengers would turn out to be my younger sister, Trisha Golding, and my ex-wife, Celeste Sheridan.
When the car door swung open, a familiar scent rushed in. Expensive perfume mixed with the sharp bite of alcohol.
In the back seat, the two of them chatted casually about corporate acquisitions and ski trips in Switzerland. Their voices were light and carefree, as though the world had never known trouble.
My throat suddenly went dry.
Before I could stop myself, I coughed.
“Taking orders when you’re sick?” Trisha snapped at once, her voice sharp with open disdain. “There’s a pregnant woman in the car. If she gets sick, can you take responsibility for that?”
I said nothing.
A moment later, Celeste lifted her eyes and met mine through the rearview mirror.
Her expression was composed, her tone gentle, unchanged, as if time itself had politely stepped aside for her.
“Nathan... Long time no see.”
The car fell into a dead silence.
“Nathan?!” Trisha lurched forward, disbelief written all over her face. “You’re still alive?!”
Then her expression twisted with disgust.
“Celeste, have you forgotten?” she snapped. “He’s diseased. Get out of the car. Now!”
Almost on cue, the car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a sprawling villa. They got out as if fleeing a fire, not daring to linger even a second longer. I remained in the driver’s seat, slowly pressing a hand to my chest.
So this is what it felt like.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
Time really did dull everything.
——
Through the windshield, I watched Trisha hurry away, dragging Celeste along with her.
Their voices drifted faintly through the night air.
“Are you out of your mind? He’s diseased. Hurry up. Just pretend we didn’t see anything tonight…”
My hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel.
I reached for my cigarette case, slipped one free, and lit it.
Once, I could smoke cigars worth hundreds of thousands without blinking. Now, the cigarette had barely caught before the smoke clawed its way into my lungs, forcing me to bend forward in a fit of coughing.
Suddenly, someone tapped lightly on the window.
Celeste had returned at some point and was standing beside the car. She stood beside the vehicle, posture straight, her face half-lit by the streetlamp.