The comments immediately fired back.
[If you feel that bad for him, then you adopt him.]
[Yeah, try cleaning up his vomit every day and see if you're still smiling.]
The argument spiraled out of control.
Just then, the first memory finished extracting and lit up the big screen.
It was my first day of kindergarten.
Right from the start, the teacher called me a genius.
I couldn't speak, but I remembered everything after seeing it once. After testing, my IQ came back at 200, twice the average.
My mother was over the moon. She hired top tutors and swore she would raise me into someone extraordinary.
Ophelia even gave me her favorite doll, saying she was proud to have a genius brother like me.
The very next day, I threw up all over it.
That was also when everything went wrong.
I got hit with a sudden illness. My hands started spasming, and I couldn't even hold a pen anymore.
The comments flooded the screen.
[What the hell is wrong with him? That doll was their dad's keepsake. Ophelia wouldn't even touch it herself, and he just threw up on it?]
[If that were me, I would've slapped him on the spot. No way I'd let that slide.]
[But he was sick. Maybe he just couldn't hold it in…]
[Sure, but he could've done it on anything else. Why the keepsake? Feels deliberate.]
The memory kept playing.
After I recovered, I went back to school.
The other kids gathered around me, all trying to help.
"My mom made this peppermint tea. You should have some. It'll make you feel better."
I took it, grateful. But the second it touched my lips, I threw up.
The kid burst into tears, and the whole classroom turned into a mess. When the teacher came over to help clean me up, I threw up all over her, too.
[Look at that. Using people's kindness just so he can throw up on them.]
[Exactly. The hospital already said he was fine. This has to be on purpose.]
When my mother heard what happened, she rushed to the school right away.
She kept apologizing under her breath. Then she changed my filthy clothes herself and carefully washed me clean.
It took her three hours to deal with everything.
She was drenched in sweat by the time she finally sat down to rest.
Then I threw up again.
This time, it splattered all over the couch. The stench filled the entire house. The couch was completely ruined.
My mother looked like she was about to break, but she still forced herself to clean it up.
I wanted to say I was sorry.
But the moment I opened my mouth, I started laughing instead. My laughter was sharp and grating, like nails dragging across a chalkboard.
The steel needles churned wildly in my brain. The pain overwhelmed me, and everything went black.
The memory cut off.
The comments exploded.
[He's already this vicious at seven. If he's not born bad, then what is he?]
[Just get rid of him already. People like this are nothing but trouble.]
[Being a single mom is already hard enough, and she ends up with a kid like this. Even I feel bad watching it.]
As I slowly came to, Ophelia put on a pained expression.
"Gabriel, please stop hurting yourself. Those memories aren't just your scars. They're painful for Mom and me, too. Why dig them up again and make everyone suffer?"
The comments immediately sided with her.
[He doesn't feel guilty at all. Watching you clean up after him probably makes him proud.]
The judge flipped through the extracted memory and shook his head.
"Gabriel, after review, the panel still finds you to be inherently dangerous."
I clenched my teeth and pressed the button again.
Gasps rippled through the room.
The second extraction required red-hot needles. No one had ever endured it. I asked the judge for three stimulant injections to make sure I wouldn't pass out from the pain.
The needles drove in. My whole body twisted, my bones cracking under the strain.
Everyone said I had lost my mind.
A few minutes later, I was covered in blood.
The second memory appeared on the screen.
