Chapter 2

Dull, frantic thuds knocked the dust from the doorframe.

Outside, before Beckett's heart-rending scream could fade, Callaghan had already dropped his medical kit, slamming into the old tack room door like an enraged bull.

However, the door had been specially reinforced against theft, and at this moment, it was secured by a heavy brass padlock on the outside. When Callaghan's massive frame crashed against it, the thick door merely let out a muffled thud, not budging an inch.

"Damn it! Where's the key? Open this goddamn door!" Callaghan turned and roared at Vivian, his usual mild manner completely gone. "Are you insane?! Harper has Macrophage Activation Syndrome! She is fatally allergic to wasp venom! How long have you had her locked in there? Open the door, now!"

"Back off! Dr. Callaghan, this is a family matter!" Vivian lunged forward like a bird of prey fiercely guarding its territory, blocking the door. Her face was full of offended arrogance. "What allergy?! She's faking it! The doctor said her vitals were normal ages ago; she's just doing this to get sympathy! You are not opening this door. This is my farm, and my word is law!"

Beckett was kneeling on the gravel, already drenched in a cold sweat.

Desperately, he clung to Vivian's legs, his voice hoarse beyond recognition: "Mom... please, please give the key to Callaghan. There's no sound inside anymore... Harper was struggling so hard just a moment ago, but now it's dead quiet! She's really going to die!"

Vivian looked down at her son from her high horse, her eyes filled with furious disappointment and a sick, twisted certainty: "No sound? That's because she knows she can't keep up the act! She's loved using this pathetic pity play to manipulate people ever since she was little, and now she wants to use it to ruin your competition tomorrow! Beckett, get up!"

"Mom! I really bought the pills myself! I still have the receipt! It has nothing to do with her!" A devastated Beckett bawled, struggling to reach for the pocket Vivian was clutching tightly.

Hearing the word "receipt," Vivian's face instantly turned incredibly grim.

To completely sever Beckett's thoughts and to protect her absolute, unquestionable authority, she violently shoved the weakened Beckett away and pulled the key straight out of her pocket.

Seeing this, Callaghan immediately reached out to snatch it from her. But Vivian dodged with lightning speed, turned, and bolted toward the storm drain a few steps away.

"No! Mom—!" Amidst Beckett's despairing scream, Vivian raised her arm and, without a moment's hesitation, hurled the only key to immediate salvation into the sewage-filled drain.

A faint splash. The key vanished entirely into the black water.

"There. Now no one is opening the door. Let her reflect on her actions inside!" Vivian clapped the dust off her hands, her tone as breezy as if she had just tossed out a piece of foul-smelling trash.

The light in Beckett's eyes instantly extinguished.

After a brief moment of shock, he suddenly lunged toward the storm drain like a madman, scrambling on his hands and knees. He recklessly jammed his fingers through the grime and rust-covered grate, fishing frantically into the filthy black water while broken wails tore from his throat: "No..."

Callaghan froze in his tracks. He then threw himself against the heavy wood, pressing his face to the crack and roaring: "Harper! Harper, can you hear me?!"

Inside the room, there was only dead silence, save for the bone-chilling hum of the hornet swarm.

Callaghan's face went from pale to livid.

He whipped out his phone to furiously dial 911, glaring intensely at Vivian. His eyes were filled with pure disbelief and raging anger: "Vivian... if anything happens to Harper, you are a murderer."

The word "murderer" pricked Vivian's nerves like a needle. She shrieked like a lunatic: "Nonsense! She is perfectly fine! she's just playing dead in there!"

Her absolute refusal to admit she was wrong made her even more volatile. She stormed back to the door, raising her foot to kick it viciously.

"You brat, do you hear me?! Stop faking! If you don't make a sound right now, I'll kick you out of this house forever tomorrow! Let's see how long you can keep this up!"

Just as the world outside the door slipped into utter madness and chaos, I was hovering mid-air, looking down at my own corpse.

I felt incredibly light.

This was my very first real sensation after death.

The suffocating sensation of my throat burning like hellfire was gone. The agonizing pain of stingers piercing my skin was gone. The crushing pressure in my chest acting like an explosive was also gone. I felt like a weightless feather.

On the floor lay a grotesquely tragic shell.

My face was so swollen that my original features were entirely unrecognizable. The skin had taken on a sickening purplish-red hue, densely covered with brutal wasp stings.

My eyes actively bulged from the extreme agony, my mouth wide open as if perpetually trapped in a silent cry for help.

My ten fingers were twisted into grotesque angles, the nails practically peeled off and packed deep with bloody wood splinters.

Hundreds of wasps were still crawling and darting over my corpse, greedily sniffing out the scent of death.

I quietly stared at my own gruesome state. Surprisingly, there wasn't a trace of fear in my heart, and even the suffocating grievance and sheer anger I felt when alive had vanished completely like smoke.

I drifted through the heavy wooden door to the outside. I watched Beckett desperately digging at the storm drain grate, and Callaghan anxiously screaming for an ambulance.

Finally, I drifted right in front of Vivian. I reached out a hand to touch her, but my hand passed straight through her body.

She was still waiting for me to surrender. She was still waiting for me to crawl out sobbing, begging for her forgiveness on my hands and knees.

But what she didn't know was... she would never, ever get that moment.