I crashed heavily to the ground.
The sharp, searing pain briefly cleared the fog in my mind.
I stared at the video, heartbroken. "Elise, how could she? Didn't I do everything to protect her?"
Soon, the effects of the drug overwhelmed me again, clouding my sanity.
I lay limp on the floor, grinning foolishly, unable to control myself.
The video was only a brief recording and it was taken three days ago. My daughter’s current whereabouts were still unknown.
The mentor insisted that I might know where she had gone.
Enraged, Damien began to beat me relentlessly, showing no mercy even after I started coughing up blood.
"Tell me! Where is our daughter?" he roared, yanking my ear so hard I thought it would tear right off.
I screamed in pain. "I don't know!"
I really had no idea where she was.
I had not seen my daughter for a long time.
The people at this building said I had received too many negative reviews and that I would only be allowed to see her again after I accumulated 5,000 positive customer reviews.
For my daughter's sake, I had no choice but to take the drugs and serve the guests without rest.
Even when I was not actively taking the drugs, the lingering effects left me dazed, often absent-minded and sometimes plagued by hallucinations.
In frustration, Damien kicked me again and barked at the mentor, "Where are they most likely to be? Search every inch of this place and find them!"
He twisted my arms behind my back and forced me to search for my daughter.
I stumbled aimlessly, unsure of where to go.
Relying purely on instinct, I wandered to my residence. This was the place where I had slept and been imprisoned for the past six months.
The moment I stepped inside, a flood of terrible memories engulfed me.
I looked around fearfully, then hurried toward the closet and whispered nervously, "Be good, hide well, don't come out and don't make a sound."
Damien shoved me aside roughly and stormed toward the closet.
He shouted harshly, "Elise Montclair! Are you hiding in there?"
In his rage, he yanked the closet doors open so violently that the entire structure nearly toppled over.
But as the doors swung wide, Damien froze. Visibly startled, he took a step back.
The closet was empty.
In the center, a small two-inch photo of my daughter sat quietly.
Like a portrait, it smiled sweetly at anyone who looked at it.