If this were the old me, I would’ve panicked and screamed for Frederick to take me to the hospital. I would’ve whined just to make him worry. But now, the pain meant nothing to me.
I figured I had about five days left. The effects of the radiation were already starting to show.
…
By the time I staggered down to the foot of the mountain, Frederick was helping Colette into the front seat of the car.
The moment he saw me, he froze. He furrowed his brows before asking, “Why are you bleeding so much? Cat got your tongue, Anastasia? Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”
“You were too far ahead. I couldn’t call out to you,” I replied.
I hadn’t spoken in so long that my voice came out hoarse.
Back then, I had taken vocal lessons just because Frederick once told me he liked my singing. I even got certified.
On top of that, I stopped eating spicy food. Even though I loved it, I had to protect my voice. But now, none of it mattered anymore.
Starving, I reached for a bag of chips in the car. They were spicy enough to make my eyes water, yet I kept eating.
Frederick looked like he was about to scold me. Yet, the words got stuck in his throat. He looked at me with a conflicted expression, his frown deepening.
“That’s enough. Stop eating, or your stomach will act up again!” he snapped.
Having said that, he snatched the food from my hands and threw it to the floor.
Then, without another word, Frederick pulled me into the passenger seat before turning to Colette, who was still standing outside the car.
“Colette, take the back seat,” he instructed.
