😍📚The More I Bled, the Closer I Was to Freedom🔥Popular Recommended Novels👉👉
One sentence from my adopted sister was all it took to have me locked away in a psychiatric hospital. Five years later, my husband finally came to take me home. The moment I got into the car, I saw my adopted sister, Beryl, sitting comfortably in the passenger seat. She looked at me with watery eyes and spoke in a trembling voice. "Quinn's glare was so scary just now... I'm frightened." My husband's expression darkened instantly. "Quinn, are you having another episode—" Before he could finish, I snatched the pen off the seat and drove it straight into my left eye. The pen disappeared into my eye socket. Blood and vitreous fluid streamed down my face, but I only grinned wider, as though I couldn't feel a thing. After leaving the hospital, we returned home. The second we stepped through the front door, Beryl deliberately threw herself onto the floor. She curled into a ball and screamed in terror. "I'm sorry, Quinn! I know I was wrong! Please don't kill me!" Hearing that, my husband stormed over. Without asking a single question, he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the wall. "Haven't you learned your lesson yet? Why can't you stop bullying Beryl?" The wound around my left eye split open again. Warm blood poured over half my face. Ignoring Grant, who continued shouting at me, I turned around and walked straight toward the balcony. Then... I jumped. From the fifth floor. An exposed steel rebar shot through my kidney. The impact shattered my leg, white bone ripping through flesh. I lay motionless in a pool of blood and mangled flesh, staring blankly at the two figures leaning over the balcony above. Just then, my parents came home from work. The moment they saw my twisted body lying below, both of them rolled their eyes back and collapsed on the spot. [Ding.] Pain Value: 40%. An additional 80% Pain Value is required before the host may travel to the next world. Please keep up the good work. ... I woke up on the morning of the third day after the doctors pulled me back from death. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes... was my husband, Grant, kissing my adopted sister. The moment Beryl noticed I was awake, she hurriedly pushed him away and put on an innocent expression. "Quinn, don't misunderstand. Grant was only helping me check whether there was something in my eye." Grant didn't look the least bit guilty. Instead, he frowned at me. "Stop assuming the worst. Not everyone is as twisted as you." I simply looked at them in silence. A moment later, the ward door swung open. My mother walked in. The instant she saw me, she rolled her eyes. "What a walking disaster. You nearly scared me to death the second you came back! If you really wanted to die, why didn't you finish the job? Who were you trying to impress by jumping off a building?" [Ding.] Malice detected from target: Mother. Pain Value collection conditions satisfied. I blinked. I hadn't expected another opportunity to collect Pain Value so soon. I had been bound to the System three years earlier. Back then, Beryl framed me, and I was forcibly committed to a psychiatric hospital. Those three years... were worse than hell. Every single day, they injected unknown drugs into my body. If I resisted, electric batons were rammed into my throat until I couldn't even scream. At night... I became nothing more than a tool for the orderlies to satisfy their lust. Whenever I got pregnant, they forced an abortion and sold the umbilical cord blood. My skin tissue... My organs... Anything that could be harvested was stripped from me and sold. Eventually, I broke. One day, while an orderly wasn't paying attention, I crawled onto the rooftop, determined to end everything. That was when the System appeared. It told me that whenever the people closest to me harbored genuine malice toward me, I could convert my suffering into Pain Value. Once my Pain Value reached one hundred percent, I would leave this world forever— and begin a new life in another world with a reward of ten billion dollars. I accepted without hesitation. Listening to my mother's endless stream of insults, I calmly reached for the fruit knife on the bedside table. Without the slightest pause... I plunged it into my abdomen. Then slowly dragged the blade sideways. My skin peeled apart. Yellow fat rolled back from the wound as blood burst out in waves. My intestines writhed beneath the pale omentum for a brief second... before the wound tore completely open. Loops of intestine spilled from my abdomen and slid onto the bed. "AAAAAH!" Beryl's bloodcurdling scream echoed through the hospital room. At the same time, the System's mechanical voice rang out again. [Ding.] Pain Value: 60%. Host has entered a critical state. Protection Mode activated. When I opened my eyes again, the pain was so overwhelming that my vision blurred white. "My daughter... How are you feeling? Even if you're hurting inside, you can't do something like this to yourself!" I struggled to lift my eyelid. My father was sitting beside the bed, tears streaming down his face. I gave him a weak smile and gently shook my head. "I'm okay, Dad." "I'll listen to Mom from now on." The words had barely left my mouth when my mother's sharp voice cut through the room. "Listen to me? Is that what you call listening?" she snapped. "She's obviously trying to force me into my grave! She keeps hurting herself just to get everyone's attention, and who ends up paying the medical bills? Me! She's nothing but an ungrateful animal!" My father's eyes instantly reddened with rage. "Shut up!" he roared. "She's almost dead! And you still think she's putting on an act?" My mother froze for a moment, unable to answer. Beryl immediately stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Mom with tear-filled eyes. "Dad... Mom... I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have upset Quinn. I'll leave right now." My mother immediately hugged her back. "This has nothing to do with you, sweetheart." She shot my father a vicious glare. "It's all that little bitch's fault! The second she comes home, she starts pretending to suffer just to steal everyone's attention. You're stupid enough to fall for it, but I won't! Look what she's done—she's upset my Beryl!" I quietly looked at my mother with my only remaining eye. Once upon a time... she had smiled at me with that same warmth. So when did everything change? Was it the day Beryl entered our family? Or had she simply stopped loving me long ago? Before I could think any further, Beryl walked over to my bedside. "Quinn... please don't make Mom angry anymore. Just apologize to her." She stood between my father and me. Then, with a movement so subtle no one else noticed, a utility knife slipped from her sleeve. She drove it straight through my palm. The blade was razor-sharp. As she withdrew it, it deliberately nicked her own finger. She cried out and stumbled backward into my father. Holding up her bleeding hand, tears instantly flooded her eyes. "Quinn... why would you stab me?" "You know I have an international art competition next week!" My mother's face changed instantly. She rushed over and slapped me across the face with all her strength. "You vicious little bitch! I knew you were up to no good!" The blow hit so hard that blood sprayed from my mouth. Even my father looked at me with disappointment. "Quinn..." "I never thought you were really pretending." "So what if your artwork is submitted under Beryl's name?" "You're the older sister." "You should learn to give in to her." I parted my lips. Countless words rose to my throat... only to die there. None of them would believe me anyway. Not one of them stopped to think about something so simple. I had only just been transferred out of the ICU. Where would a bedridden patient possibly get a knife? Silence filled the room. Then the door opened. Grant walked in. The instant he saw Beryl's bleeding hand and tear-filled eyes, his expression turned glacial. Without asking what had happened... he strode toward me. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me off the hospital bed. My body slammed onto the floor. Medical equipment crashed down around me. Metal stands, monitors, and instruments scraped across my skin, tearing open fresh wounds. Grant planted his foot on my injured hand. The utility knife still lodged in my palm shifted beneath the crushing force. The blade ground deeper through flesh. White-hot pain shot through my entire body. He slowly crouched in front of me, staring coldly into my pale face. "If you don't want this hand anymore..." "I'll help you get rid of it." Limited-Time Free Reading. Don't miss it!!!🔥🔥🔥 ******👇👇👇