The shouting grew louder. Some yelled for me to die, others called me selfish and cold-blooded.
I lay on the ground with blood at my lips, but those memories kept replaying in my mind. The memories that once kept me going were now the sharpest knives hurting me.
“You don’t understand! You don’t understand at all!”
“Don’t understand? What’s there not to understand!” Vincent grabbed my hair and smashed my face into the floor.
“We know you hid in the study while your wife was attacked! We know you protected the killer for five years! We know Tasha is still unconscious! What else do you have to say?” My forehead hit the floor, blood blurring my vision.
I knew everyone hated me; my cowardice, my protection of the killer and the harm done to Tasha. But I couldn’t speak. I really couldn’t. Some truths were more terrifying than death.
I pulled out a hidden porcelain shard I’d taken from a bowl in the detention center. When his grip on my hair loosened, I moved quickly and cut my own neck.
Warm blood poured down my neck. It was over; no more torture, no more risking that terrible truth being exposed. “Tasha, I’m sorry… this is the only way left to protect your dignity.”
“Stop him!” Vincent shouted and a strong force knocked me to the ground.
The bailiffs pinned me down. Vincent crouched, watching the blood from my neck. “Erickson, do you want to die? It’s not that easy!”
He grabbed my collar, his voice harsh. “You’ll stay alive, even barely, until I find the murderer and Tasha wakes up!”
The doctor rushed over with gauze and tools to quickly bandage my wound. Vincent stood aside and ordered sharply, “Give him a heart stimulant and a clotting shot. Do whatever it takes. Keep him alive!”
“Captain Newton, that dose is too high; it could seriously harm his nerves,” the doctor said, hesitating.
“Damage?” Vincent sneered. “Trash like him doesn’t matter. As long as he stays alive until we find the truth, even if he ends up brain‑dead, I don’t care!”
The doctor didn’t argue, took a syringe, drew the drug and injected it into my vein. The drug flowed through my veins, quickly reaching my whole body.
My heart raced, my muscles stiffened and I struggled to breathe. The bailiffs helped me back into the chair.
The gauze on my neck soaked up blood again, but the drug kept me alive; I couldn’t even faint.
“Keep extracting!” Vincent ordered the technicians coldly.
The technician nodded and restarted the machine. The metal connector felt like a sharp thorn in my head, buzzing as the machine ran.
I could feel a cold force invading my mind, pulling at my memories and trying to take the buried pieces. I fought with all my strength. I couldn’t let it win.
