Chapter 11 So You Can Treat Me Like A Crap Because I Liked You?

1103 Words
Her youth, her love, and her marriage. All of these began with Joseph yet ended with him. Joseph, I've liked you for sixteen freaking years! How many damn sixteen-year chunks do we get in a lifetime? Why the hell do you think it's okay to treat me like crap just because I like you? In that moment, tears just wouldn't stop flowing, soaking her shirt. It was dead silent outside. She didn't know if Joseph had heard the things she said, but one thing was for sure: he never gave a damn about her death, nor would he ever give a damn about anything she said. Ada suddenly shut up. She quickly wiped away her tears and slumped down against the door, huddled on the floor. She bit her hand to hold back the sobs, refusing to let herself cry. Ada let out a miserable sob. She hadn't even eaten breakfast, only gulped down a glass of milk. Now she was starving, her stomach cramping and twisting in agony. Ada managed to crawl into the bathroom with the last of her strength and vomited into the toilet. The acidic water burned her throat. After vomiting, Ada's stomach kept convulsing. She knew she couldn't vomit anymore, or she would start bleeding. She groaned in pain while covering her mouth tightly. Ada went back to her room and opened the drawer to take out two bottles of medicine. She had to rely on them to survive for the next three days. There was no clean water in the room, so Ada had to go to the washroom to drink tap water while holding the pills in her mouth. Her esophagus was narrower than normal people's, and the dry pills got stuck in her throat, slowly dissolving into a thick, bitter liquid. Ada made herself look very embarrassed, trying to suppress dry heaves while forcing herself to swallow four pills. After swallowing the pills, Ada couldn't help but vomit again. The pills seemed to have returned to her throat. She covered her mouth tightly, and the bitter taste lingered in her mouth, never disappearing. Ada curled up in bed, holding the blanket from day to night. The originally stuffy weather now felt like midwinter, making people lose their minds. Ada's pupils floated aimlessly. As the light grew dimmer, she began to hide under the covers like a turtle. The thunder sounded outside, and a lightning bolt struck, illuminating the entire bedroom for an instant. The warm bedroom that she had decorated with care now looked so terrifying. The light and shadow intertwined on the glass window, and another lightning bolt accompanied by a huge thunderbolt fell down. "c***k!" It seemed to tear the entire sky apart. "Ah!" Ada screamed, holding the blanket, her body covered in cold sweat. In the pitch-black thunderstorm, when people were plunged into fear, they would always have wild thoughts, imagining a monster appearing on the ceiling to swallow them, or a hand reaching out from beside the bed to grab them. She dared not move and could only hug her shoulders tighter. "J...Joseph." "Joseph..." "Joseph!" She shouted his name, trembling at first and then hoarse as if she wanted to dig him out of her heart. No one answered her in the empty room, only the muffled sound of thunder outside. She felt abandoned, unwanted, and forgotten. Ada started crying again, unable to tell if it was physiological tears or psychological ones. ... After locking the door, Joseph left London. His phone beeped, and he took it out to check. It was a weather forecast for thunderstorms tonight. Joseph read t it and put it back in his pocket. He remembered that Isabella was afraid of thunder, but as for Ada...she had the guts to confront him, so why would she be afraid of thunder? Joseph drove to Isabella's house, but his mind unknowingly drifted towards Ada. He felt restless, as if his soul had been taken away. Joseph hated being controlled by others. He clenched the steering wheel and, while waiting for the traffic light at an intersection, couldn't help but punch it. Isabella had just recovered from an illness and looked a bit haggard. When she saw Joseph push open the door, her eyes lit up with surprise. Her pale face brightened up a bit upon Joseph's arrival. "Joseph, have you eaten yet?" she asked. "No," he replied. "Alright, let me whip up some food. We can chow down together." This house was bought by Joseph for her, and he had even personally picked out the top-notch ingredients in the fridge. As Joseph watched Isabella busy in the kitchen, the scene in his eyes slowly switched to another person, Ada. He remembered that Ada had cooked for him for a long time, waiting for him to come back to eat, but he never tasted it. Feeling someone's gaze on her, Isabella turned around, still holding a spoon. When she spotted Joseph standing by the kitchen entrance, she smirked. "Hey baby, why don't you have a seat in the living room? You can't stand the smell of cooking, can you?" She had known Joseph since they were kids and knew all his likes and dislikes. There was nobody in the world who understood this man better than she did. In that aspect, Ada couldn't even come close. Joseph nodded silently and turned back to the living room. He turned on the TV, which was playing the most popular variety show with constant laughter in the background, but he couldn't feel any humor. He stared at the TV, but his mind couldn't stop thinking about Ada, picturing her with teary, red eyes and a face like crumpled old paper. His heart just twitched. When he left the bedroom, he caught snippets of Ada's sobbing and hoarse cries. She said she is dying. Even though he acted like he didn't give a damn, why the hell did his heart suddenly sting, like someone jabbed it with needles? That sharp, lingering pain spread throughout his body, reaching every damn corner. His brow twitched uncontrollably. Joseph pressed his temples, feeling the pulsating throb. His mood became more and more restless as he sat on the sofa, and his feet unconsciously reached towards the door. When Isabella came out with the freshly cooked soup, she smelled a pungent smoke. She followed the smell and saw Joseph lying on the sofa, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearm, and his long fingers holding a cigarette. He took a puff, and the blue-white smoke covered his face, making it hard to see his emotions.
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