Chapter 8

[Just die. It would be better if I died.]

The thought suddenly flashed through my mind, but I quickly pushed it away. I had to live. I still had a future ahead of me. If I died now, what would all my past suffering have been for?

My strong will to survive made me struggle fiercely, even as Charles's hand tightened around my throat.

As I closed my eyes, a sense of release washed over me, but it was tinged with regret. No family, no love - in the end, I had nothing left.

Even on this scorching summer day, my body felt cold.

"Let her go."

That cool voice. I knew it all too well. It was James.

"Rose is already dead. Do you want another death on your conscience?" he continued.

I fell to the ground, my head spinning, voices echoing around me.

Charles shouted like a madman. "She killed my sister! What does it matter if I kill her?"

In the end, all my explanations were futile. The accusation of murder seemed to have become a permanent mark on me. I didn't know who, if anyone, would ever believe me.

"Calm down," James said.

"Hah! James, have you gone soft? Didn't you tell me yourself that you wished she was dead?" Charles sneered.

"I said what I wanted to do was my business," James replied coldly. "If she's going to die, it should be by my hand."

The sound of a fist slamming on the table accompanied Charles's angry voice.

"She killed Rose, James. You'd better not forget what you said before."