Chapter 100: Chapter 100 The Sharpest Solace
Phoebe’s POV
Everything felt hollow. Just like when I ate and tasted nothing, now I couldn’t feel anything at all.
A massive emptiness consumed my chest.
I experienced numbness, then overwhelming sensation all at once. This contradiction of my reality choked me. I had no idea what to feel or how to act. All I craved was for this torment to end.
One second I longed for sleep, the next I felt capable of staying awake for days.
I lacked the strength to rise from my bed, yet restlessness plagued me because of my inactivity.
Every time I pressed my hand to my stomach, the weight crushing my chest intensified.
I had lost the baby.
I had lost my child.
I hadn’t even realized I was carrying when I lost the little one, and there was nothing I could have done to stop it.
I shouldn’t feel this devastated since I’d been unaware. How could I grieve something I never knew existed?
Yet that’s exactly what consumed me now. I was completely lost. My chest felt crushed, as though a stone pressed down on me.
How was it possible to feel this way?
"How are you feeling, my lady? Do you need something? Are you in pain anywhere?" Marcela’s worried voice reached me.
I stared at her. I watched her lips move, but I couldn’t process her words.
It was as if I’d separated from reality, observing everything around me from outside my own body.
This wasn’t my first experience with this sensation—feeling detached from myself while my mind drifted.
But now I was completely severed from the real world.
"If you’re hurting anywhere, please tell me, okay?" Marcela spoke with a tenderness that could soften iron, yet I felt nothing. Even her touch brought no warmth. "I’ll step out for a moment."
I watched Marcela exit the room, then returned my gaze to the window, to the garden where magnolia blossoms displayed their beauty.
Someone had once shown me that kind of care. But I couldn’t recall who. Someone with a radiant smile.
A girl.
A girl who had lost her family in the war.
The girl I had considered a friend. Someone who had first shown me kindness in this place.
Mason.
One instant I felt nothing, the next every ounce of pain crashed over me at once, as if a dam of suffering had burst inside me.
"Ugh..."
I doubled over, gasping for breath.
I wasn’t wounded—the injuries on my body were healing—but why did it feel like thousands of blades were piercing me? Why did it feel like I was being beaten senseless?
"It hurts..."
I gripped my chest.
Breathe, breathe, get control of yourself...
I spoke to myself. I fought for air.
But my condition only worsened as my mind replayed the moment Perry murdered Mason. The blood that splattered across my face. The crimson trail on the floor, and the sickening metallic scent that filled the air.
The girl was gone. Mason was dead, slain by my mate.
So was my unborn child.
Perry could have saved the baby, but he chose not to.
He’d been too furious with me to even consider our child.
He didn’t care about the baby. He never wanted it.
Another voice rang in my head.
I clutched my chest and stumbled from the bed. My legs gave out and my body was engulfed in agony that raged beneath my skin.
The pain in my chest doubled, emptying my mind of all thought. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound emerged.
I couldn’t breathe, my mouth was parched, and my throat burned. I needed to make it stop.
The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t endure it.
"Help... it hurts..."
My body convulsed on the floor like a dying fish.
I accidentally struck the table, sending everything on top crashing down.
The table itself collapsed on me, yet that pain felt dull compared to what I was experiencing.
The world was fading, and I was deteriorating rapidly, as if all air had been stolen from my lungs.
Several glasses shattered on the floor, and as I continued writhing, the sharp fragments sliced my skin, drawing blood.
But the more physical pain I felt from the cuts, the less I felt the internal torment.
The blood.
Perhaps my blood was causing my suffering.
I didn’t know where the thought came from, but since more blood made me feel lighter, I grabbed a sharp shard and sliced my wrists.
More blood poured from my wound, extinguishing the fire within me, and I welcomed the coolness. This felt so much better...
With that realization, I cut my other wrist, releasing more blood.
I was sitting in a pool of my own blood now, but I didn’t care because the pain had finally stopped.
More... more...
I thought to myself, so I made a cut on my leg this time. The red liquid flowed freely from my body, and finally I could breathe, the crushing weight gone. I felt weightless, as if I could float...
This was so much better...
It brought instant cold and silent relief when I leaned against the fallen table, and I didn’t resist when the quiet enveloped me.
I felt better now...
I wanted to sleep.
