The moment I opened my mouth, a spray of blood foam came pouring out.
Panic flooded Blake's eyes. He was about to call for a doctor when his assistant burst through the door.
"Mr. Gilbert, Miss Pruitt is awake, but she's hysterical. She's threatening to slit her wrists again!"
One sentence. That was all it took for him to drop me back onto the floor without a second thought.
"Get every doctor to Agatha's room immediately. Have them on standby!"
He glanced down at me, already half-unconscious on the cold tiles.
"Send another nurse in here. Keep drawing Elaine's blood."
Nathan Voss's face twisted with discomfort.
"Sir, Mrs. Gilbert has already lost too much blood. If we keep going, something could happen."
Blake let out a barely perceptible scoff.
"She's always been tough as nails. Nothing's going to happen."
"Besides, this is what she and her mother owe Agatha."
"As long as Agatha pulls through, I'll send her abroad for treatment after she's discharged. As for Elaine, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her."
He didn't look at me again. His footsteps hurried down the hallway and faded.
The needle pierced my skin once more. I didn't struggle this time. I just closed my eyes, too exhausted to fight.
A bitter smile ghosted across my lips.
Blake, you won't get the chance to make it up to me.
Because once someone is dead, they don't need anything anymore.
The nurse tried everything, but my body had nothing left to give. Not a single drop.
She stared at the empty syringe, her face pale with alarm.
From outside the door came Blake's furious, impatient roar.
"What are you standing around for? Get that blood to Agatha's room, now!"
The nurse fumbled to pull the blanket over me, then stumbled out of the room.
"Mr. Gilbert, Miss Harding has lost too much blood. There's nothing left to draw!"
Blake frowned and let out a cold grunt.
"Nothing left? Then let her rest for a couple of days and try again."
The blanket covered my face. My consciousness was slipping, dissolving at the edges.
Even so, when I heard his words, I couldn't help but laugh. A cold, quiet laugh.
A couple of days?
He didn't know I wouldn't survive the next two hours.
My body had lost the ability to produce blood. At this rate of loss, I would slip into a coma and die within minutes.
When my consciousness finally scattered into nothing, I felt no sadness.
Only relief. The relief of someone who had finally been set free.