Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 45

“So, if you’re sorry, please leave, Vivian.

I don’t know if we ever felt close before, but that’s certainly not the case now, is it?”

Vivian bit her lip slightly, staring at me without a word.

To me, it didn’t seem like she intended to leave anytime soon.

I stood up, intending to retreat to my room, but as I passed by, Vivian grabbed my right sleeve.

Was this because of earlier—when she grabbed my bare hand and I slapped her? To her, that had just happened, after all.

Her grip pressed my sleeve against the wound underneath, reopening it, and I felt blood slowly seeping through.

It began dripping from the tips of my fingers, landing audibly on the ground.

“Vivian. Are you out of your mind? Let go…”

“What’s this?”

Vivian’s grip on my sleeve tightened.

The more she pulled, the more the makeshift white bandage covering the wound unraveled, leaving the injury exposed and mangled again.

I had thought the bleeding had nearly stopped, but clearly, I’d been mistaken.

At this point, the blood was visibly soaking through my clothes, forming dark, damp spots.

Let’s blame Vivian for this. It was because she wouldn’t let go of my arm.

“Vivian, it hurts. Could you please let go?”

“Erica, your arm is bleeding! What… No, you need to get this treated immediately!”

Vivian, panicking, tried to either roll up my sleeve or strip off my shirt to inspect the wound.

Knowing she was about to touch me, I shoved her arm away with all the strength I could muster.

But was she letting me do this intentionally?

Or had she not expected me to actually strike her, and so she hadn’t prepared herself?

Probably the former.

Because she grabbed my arm again, this time lifting it forcefully.

As she did, the wound reopened, and fresh blood flowed down my arm.

The pristine white of my uniform turned a deep, ominous red along the path of the dripping blood.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with this.

It hurts, so just let go. If I wrap it in a bandage back in my room, it’ll heal quickly.”

I tried again to brush her off, but Vivian held on stubbornly.

It was a terrible feeling—realizing that I was too weak to free myself from someone my own age.

“This? This is supposed to heal quickly?!”

“You haven’t seen it before, have you?

Vivian, you’re the type who can’t understand anything unless you see it with your own eyes.

You always push closer to people who don’t want you near, which only fuels their feelings of inferiority…”

I tried to calm her down, to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen.

Like a puppeteer manipulating a frail marionette, Vivian pulled at my sleeve, fully exposing my arm.

“This… this is…”

“It hurts. Let me go.”

Vivian’s grip on my wrist was so tight it felt like my bones might snap.

But she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were fixed on my arm, now freely bleeding after the cloth bandage had fallen away.

The blood welled up in beads, like blooming flowers pushing through my skin. There was something strangely mesmerizing about it.

“You… did this to yourself, didn’t you?”

When Vivian said that, my carefully composed facade shattered instantly.

I had been holding up a mask, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

“Ah.”

Why did she have to say it aloud?

Of course people would assume I was some lunatic who cut her own arm.

But hearing it stated outright made me feel dizzy and desperate to silence her.

If I said something like, I was punishing another part of myself, she’d think I was not only self-harming but also delusional enough to believe I had another person inside me.

Which, I suppose, would make me exactly what she already thought—a lunatic.

It made sense for her to react like this.

For Vivian, this had all happened just moments ago.

But for me?

I had lived through countless days, stretching into weeks, months, maybe even years of agony.

There were also fleeting moments of happiness—like enjoying chocolate with coffee.

It had been such a long time.

And yet, I felt a surge of resentment.

Nobody understood how hard it had been for me, how much I had suffered.

Not that I wanted to cry for pity or beg people to understand.

Sure, the idea of them uncovering the truth and feeling shocked, remorseful for their cruelty, was tempting. But it was also childish.

Because once people tasted drama, they’d only crave more.

What meaning would it have for me, someone for whom time seemed infinite?

Better for me to die pitifully, leaving behind a corpse people would spit on.

Let them despise me—a jealous, inept, and powerless creature.

So I spoke with as much disdain as I could muster.

“Let go.”

“How could I let go?!”

“Of course, I could let go. I have nothing left to hold on to.

Maybe you can’t let go because you have so much more than I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need treatment right now!

Go see a doctor, even if they’re just a psychiatrist, for God’s sake!”

I heard her words layered with an echoing hallucination.

The overlap made me nauseous.

“Ugh, urgh…”

Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten anything, so all that came out was bitter stomach acid.

It felt like my throat was burning as it rose.

Standing there, I said nothing. I couldn’t.

The pain in my arm throbbed incessantly, almost numbing.

In the end, I chose to run away again.

Not physically, but emotionally—once again kneeling before someone I envied and feared.

“Please… please, let go. I can’t do this anymore.”

All I could do was cry.

I wanted to escape, even though I hadn’t seen how pathetic I must have looked.

Finally, Vivian’s grip loosened.

Looking at my wrist, it was clear I’d be carrying a deep bruise for several days.

I stared at my tingling arm for a while, then pulled my sleeve back down over the wound to cover it. Standing up, I acted as if nothing had happened.

Yes, nothing happened.

I hadn’t knelt before Vivian, begging her to let me go.

I wouldn’t do something like that. Ha, ha.

I picked up the cigar I’d dropped earlier, brushing it off with my hand before clamping it back between my lips.

It had been on the ground for only three seconds, and since I wasn’t eating it, it should be fine.

I inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs. My head spun, and I felt as if my lungs were rotting from the inside out.

Ah, right. Cigars aren’t meant to be inhaled fully like this.

Vivian stood there, still in shock, saying nothing.

“Next time, I’ll stay with Erica, you know.

Sorry for shattering the illusion.”

Yes, next time.

“What on earth are you talking about…?”

Her mouth gaped open as she stared at me in disbelief, but I merely brushed past her, lightly pushing her aside, and walked away.

Blood dripped steadily from my arm, the result of her earlier grip tearing the wound further.

If I went back to my room and shot myself in the head, time would rewind again.

How many times would I need to do it?

I just needed to return to the moment before I slapped Vivian.

Then, I’d try to live until old age somehow.

I’d hide in my dorm at the academy, avoiding Lydia and steering clear of places Vivian or Evan frequented.

If I ran into them, I’d tell them to leave me alone and escape as quickly as possible.

“Yes, that’s it.”

But as I considered retreating quietly to my room to end it all, that choice was abruptly taken away.

With the cigar still in my mouth, I coughed violently from the smoke burning my chest.

Vivian, having snapped out of her daze, stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Could you move, please?”

“No. I’m calling Evan. Wait in your room until he comes.”

With that, she snatched the cigar from my hand and tossed it away before lifting me up entirely.

Yes, she actually picked me up, taking care not to touch the wounded part of my arm.

I didn’t know if she’d strengthened herself with magic, but the experience of being lifted by someone my age without being able to resist was thoroughly humiliating.

The absurdity of the situation overwhelmed me, and I started laughing.

Not a pleasant laugh, but the unhinged kind—like someone who had lost their mind or couldn’t suppress their amusement at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Ha, haha. Ha. Hi, hik…”

Then, suddenly, I felt sad, and I cried.

Fortunately, the sound of my sobs was muffled by my laughter, making it seem like I was just gasping for breath between fits of giggles.

I’d already knelt and begged with clasped hands; what difference did crying make?

But rational thought had no place in such a moment.

Especially not for someone like me—a fool who let emotions guide every decision.

Ah, I felt so powerless.

The world was detestable.

I wanted to burn it all down.

Not that I ever could.

It was just the fleeting thought of an inept, helpless person, one I quickly shoved to the back of my mind.

Besides, Vivian had slung me over her shoulder, and my diaphragm was pressed against her, making it hard to breathe.

Maybe it was the blood loss, or maybe it was just exhaustion.

Either way, I closed my eyes and let my body go limp.

Vivian carried me somewhere, her steps steady as she bore my weight without a word.