The IV needle piercing his neck wasn’t fatal, just painful. Elisa clenched the needle as if it were a knife and made a swift cut along Hamish’s artery, causing blood to flow.
Hamish grunted softly. He wasn’t afraid of death; he was afraid of Elisa rejecting him.
He gently bit Elisa’s lip and then released her. He didn’t bother to wipe the blood from his neck. Instead, he reached back and grabbed Elisa’s trembling hand. “Your hands are dirty.”
She looked at her fingers. The blue veins bulged on the back of her hand, and her fingertips were sticky with blood. Tears welled up in her eyes, shining brightly. A drop rolled down her cheek, so clear, so fragile.
Elisa shed tears, yet a grim smile played on her lips. She didn’t feel scared or sad. She only felt excitement because she had finally hurt this man. However, the pain he felt from the injury didn’t even compare to one percent of what she had endured.
Hamish wiped the tears from her face. “Elisa, just like today, I’m waiting for you to kill me, as long as you can do it.”
Elisa’s teeth ground together, her face suddenly turning chillingly cold. A frigid air enveloped her pale face. Suddenly, she grinned, a childlike giggle escaping her lips. She tossed the blood-stained needle aside, propped herself up on the nearby sink, and unsteadily stood up. “I will definitely kill you. Even if I can’t kill you, I want you to live in the same despair as me.”
Hamish stood up beside her. “To kill me, you must live well.”
…
Hamish’s neck wound wasn’t deep, so after disinfecting and wrapping it, it was fine. However, Elisa had torn open the wound on her abdomen. The fresh blood stained her hospital gown red.
Hamish watched as the doctor furrowed his brow while treating her. He threw blood-soaked cotton balls into the trash can. The wound looked fierce, like a pair of bloodshot eyes.
How much pain must she be in? Yet Elisa didn’t even furrow her brow. It seemed she had taken Hamish’s words to heart, taking her medication on time, enduring injections and IV drips, just living on.
Before, she could barely swallow a single pill, fearing the bitterness and needing sugar afterward. Now she could swallow several at once, letting them dissolve in her mouth, forgetting the taste of sweetness, with no intention of having any more.
Hamish arranged for Mrs. Rugger to take care of Elisa. They sat together and talked, mostly Mrs. Rugger speaking while Elisa listened. They never mentioned the child, as if she had never been pregnant.
On November 11th, Elisa was discharged.
After more than four months, the stuffed cat at home had become somewhat unfamiliar to her, hiding on the sofa and discreetly observing her. When Elisa sat down, it boldly approached and sniffed her, recognizing her familiar scent.
“Meow.” Mimi let out a cry, swaying its fluffy tail.
Elisa scratched Mimi’s neck and groomed it. It had grown a lot. It was clear that it had been well cared for in her absence. Comforted by her touch, it relaxed, showing its fluffy belly. Elisa caressed its neck and moved toward its belly.
The ragdoll cat itself was gentle, and Mimi, being naturally affectionate, knew she was the one who had taken care of it since it was young. It became even closer to Elisa, purring loudly.
The internet in the villa had been shut off by Hamish’s orders. Although Elisa had a phone, she couldn’t see any outside messages. In fact, even if the internet hadn’t been shut off, Hamish controlled all her means of communication, as if to hide something.
“Elisa, do you want to go upstairs?” Mrs. Rugger asked, already having changed her address from “Mrs. Burns” to “Elisa”.
Elisa nodded and put Mimi down. The villa remained the same, but her room had been slightly modified. The color scheme was warmer, with many more decorative paintings. One of them depicted a sunflower facing the sun, brimming with vitality.
As the weather grew colder, Elisa put on a down jacket and added two sweaters to ward off the winter chill.
When she returned to the villa and the heating was on, the average temperature was 25 degrees. Elisa took off her down jacket, feeling just right.
She liked to keep the windows open. The cold wind felt like knives against her face. Her complexion turned pale, as if she were a living person trapped in a coffin, long deprived of sunlight. Finally seeing the light again, she felt no vitality within her body.
…
Like in the beginning, Hamish went to work on time and returned early to be with Elisa. Their relationship became increasingly indifferent, with a double-edged sword standing between them; whoever took a step forward would be met with death.
Sleeping became a challenge. He couldn’t sleep beside her under her resentful gaze, so he had to sleep on the faraway sofa.
Most of the time, Elisa was engrossed in the blue-and-white porcelain. When she had nothing to do, she held it in her arms, meticulously wiping it with a clean towel, even though there wasn’t a speck of dust on it.
A week passed, and Elisa held the blue-and-white porcelain as she said to Hamish, “Find a place to bury it.”
“Alright,” Hamish agreed. He chose a cemetery and spent a large sum to buy a plot of land in which to bury the blue-and-white porcelain.
Elisa silently gazed at the tombstone with the two words “Jude” inscribed on it, her expression as insipid as a wisp of smoke. She didn’t shed a tear because her tears had long since dried up.
…
Upon her return, Elisa appeared as if nothing had happened. She focused on her health, and her complexion gradually improved, but it still remained pale and lifeless.
She had grown accustomed to polishing the blue-and-white porcelain bottle. Now that it was buried, she felt like something was missing in her hands. To avoid being consumed by this sense of loss, Elisa began to find things to do.
She washed her own clothes, cleaned her own bedroom and bathroom, and even cooked for herself. Mrs. Rugger assisted her with household chores.
Hamish had given instructions that as long as Elisa didn’t harm herself, she could do as she pleased, including going out.
This time, he didn’t restrict her freedom in any way. However, Elisa obediently stayed at home, as if she had become accustomed to a life of confinement.
After finishing work, Hamish returned home and caught a familiar scent of food in the air, a fragrance he had often smelled over the past four years.
“Who cooked today?” he asked the housekeeper, his voice trembling.
“Mrs. Burns did,” she replied.
Hamish tugged at his lip, and sure enough, when he entered the dining room, he saw Elisa bustling about in the kitchen, wearing an apron.
For a moment, he thought he was seeing things, or perhaps he had traveled back four years in time. Back then, Elisa loved him devotedly and would always come back to cook, and that familiar aroma of food, which he had sneered at for four years, was now a flavor he longed to taste.
Three dishes and a soup were placed on the table by Mrs. Rugger, and Hamish, having washed his hands, eagerly took his seat.