Aoife sat on the bed quietly knitting a sweater, while Finn watched her from the nearby sofa.
With her head lowered and a loose ponytail behind, a strand of hair fell from her temple, blocking her view. She casually tucked it behind her ear.
From Finn’s perspective, he could see Aoife’s full forehead under the warm yellow bedroom light, casting her shadow on the wall.
Finn quietly watched Aoife for a while, the atmosphere warm and reminiscent, reminding him of the phrase “peaceful times.”
Only at moments like these did Finn not see Aoife changed, she was still the obedient and gentle “rabbit.”
After taking her medication at night and knitting for half an hour, Aoife started dozing off. Her hands slowed down, and she fell asleep with the sweater in her hands.
Seeing her movements pause, Finn knew she had fallen asleep. Carefully, he got up, quietly went over, and put away the yarn and needles she held in a bag.
Despite the hot weather, Aoife’s hands were still cold. He covered her hands until they warmed up, tucked her into bed, and adjusted the blankets.
He truly liked Aoife, or more directly put, perhaps he “loved” her. He would give up anything but couldn’t leave Aoife behind.
For him, Aoife might just be like plain water or air, often taken for granted. But it’s only when you truly lose something that you realize its importance, as losing air or water can be fatal.
Finn realized this truth too late, still confident that as long as he didn’t open the cage door, Aoife would always remain under his watchful eye.
After tucking Aoife under the blanket, he carefully lay on the other side of the bed and closed his eyes.
Finn was a vigilant person, even in his sleep, keeping alert to prevent deep slumber. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, Finn woke up to see Aoife sitting up, holding a needle in her hand.
The wind whistled, and Aoife nodded, her gaze cold like that of a wild wolf waiting for prey in the night.
She raised the needle, aiming it directly at Finn without any hesitation.
Although the needle was not as sharp as a blade, it was still pointed. When someone truly wants to kill, they put all their strength into it.
In Aoife’s calm eyes, hatred gradually filled as she uttered, “Finn, you deserve to die!”
As she made a vicious move, Finn dodged, and the needle grazed his earlobe, piercing into the pillow instead.
The force behind such a murderous action, aiming for the face, could be deadly, especially towards the eyes.
With both hands gripping the thin needle, eyes reddened, Aoife repeated, “Finn, you deserve to die!”
She seemed like a madman caught in a nightmare, unaware of anything but striking out at Finn with the sharp object, intending to harm him until he was riddled with holes.
As Hattie had warned, if you can’t kill, then make sure you cause enough harm.
Finn avoided the attack but not completely; the needle grazed his earlobe, leaving a throbbing pain. Finn knew he was bleeding without even touching it.
Looking at Aoife, he could no longer recognize her. The timid and weak rabbit he had known had transformed into a wolf, eager to tear him apart and feast on his flesh.
Aoife resembled a crazed ghost, with hatred overwhelming her expression. Finn, ignoring the pain in his ear, grabbed her hand and pulled her into his embrace, gently patting her back, “Aoife, you’re just tired and confused. Go to sleep.”
He thought he could calm down a “lunatic” like this.
But Aoife felt detached from her body, like a lingering soul lost in the air, her desperate cries unheard.
Calling her “Aoife” made her nauseous, and she screamed, “Don’t touch me!”
Fearing Aoife would hurt herself with the sharp needle, Finn took it from her and threw it to the ground.
Exhausted from screaming, Aoife trembled, saying, “Finn, I know I can’t kill you. But as long as you’re near me, I’ll find a way to hurt you.”
Finn couldn’t comprehend how the person who was fine a moment ago could suddenly go mad.
He remembered when Aoife had suffered from depression before, and doctors had warned him not to confine her at home or it could worsen her condition.
Finn didn’t believe it, but it seemed they had found out the hard way.
In the moonlight, Aoife smiled viciously, scarred but still beautiful.
Looking at the once lovely Aoife who now threatened him, Finn paused, recalling a time when she had approached him cautiously.
“-Mr. Snearl, I’m Aoife, innocent and pure.”
Now, Aoife seemed like a vengeful demon, too dangerous to approach. Finn finally reached out and touched the scar.
The pristine Aoife was no longer afraid to get her hands dirty with blood.
“Getting blood on your hands, I remember you always liked cleanliness…”
“Clean?” Aoife grabbed Finn’s collar, “Finn, I’m no longer clean. You’ve tainted me, and what have I gained? What has Dr. Mason gained? Why should we be bullied by scum like you?”
The trigger that drove Aoife insane, aside from the memories of her knitting, was Hattie, sentenced to two years in prison.
Finn was speechless as Aoife’s icy hands on his neck sent shivers down his spine, impossible to warm up no matter how hard he tried. He squeezed Aoife’s hand, turned to touch her, and blood from his earlobe dripped onto her, scorching his heart.
People don’t go crazy suddenly, and Finn never intended for Aoife to reach this breaking point. He always wanted the gentle and caring Aoife from the past, so how did things turn out this way?
Mumbling to himself, Finn said, “Aoife, I never wanted to ruin you… I never imagined you would change into this. How did we reach this point?”
With a ruthless air surrounding her, Aoife’s dark eyes glared with bloodshot rage, making Finn unable to meet her gaze.
After a long silence, Aoife’s emotions subsided, and she sagged into Finn’s embrace like a defanged snake. Finn hugged her, “Aoife, I remember you didn’t finish college. Let me take you back to school.”
Many things aren’t achievable through sheer effort; sometimes, one must accept their fate.