Chapter 6 Hallucinations

She heard the lock click and thought it was the nurse bringing her meal.

But the person who walked in was Violet.

She was no longer in a wheelchair. Holding a glass of water, she stood quietly in the doorway, looking toward the hospital bed.

Amelia stared back. Violet looked much better—her face had color, and her lips were no longer blue-tinged.

Her blood had worked.

"Amelia," Violet walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, her tone gentle, as if comforting a child. "How are you feeling?"

Amelia didn't answer.

Violet didn't mind. She placed the glass on the nightstand and turned to look at her.

"I brought you water with nutritional supplements. Drink it—it'll help you recover." She paused, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "Don't worry. It's not poison. You're my blood donor now. I won't let anything happen to you."

Amelia's gaze fell on the glass. Still silence.

"You don't want it?" Violet sighed softly. "You've barely eaten in days. The nurses say your body can't take much more. If this continues, how will you give me your heart?"

Amelia turned her face away.

After a brief silence, Violet suddenly laughed.

"Do you know what Candice said before she died?"

Amelia stiffened.

"She said she hoped you'd live well. She said the person she felt most indebted to in this life was you—that she couldn't give you a stable home. She wished for your happiness. And her biggest regret was never finding her own lost biological daughter."

Tears slid down Amelia's cheeks.

"But she'll never know that you'll soon be leaving this world." Violet leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Think about it. If she saw you like this from heaven, wouldn't her heart break?"

"Stop... please stop."

Her voice shook.

"Do you remember how she died?" Violet kept going, each word piercing Amelia's ears. "After she saw those terrible images, she pulled out her own oxygen tube. In her final moments, she kept calling your name over and over."

"I told you to shut up."

Amelia screamed, struggling to sit up, but her broken body wouldn't cooperate. She could only lie there, shaking.

Violet sat calmly by the bed, her expression peaceful, like watching a show.

"Tell me, if she knew everything, would she regret adopting you all those years ago? Never mind. Let's not talk about that. Drink the water."

Violet picked up the glass and held it in front of her. "Drink it, then rest. Once your body is ready, it'll be time to give me your heart."

Amelia stared at the glass. Her will to resist crumbled. She reached out, took it, and brought it to her lips.

The drink tasted strange—bitter, slightly sweet, with a strange, fishy smell.

Violet watched her drink, her smile widening.

"Sleep peacefully," she said, standing and patting Amelia's hand. "When you wake up, everything will be better."

Then she left. The door locked again.

Amelia lay on the bed, waiting for drowsiness. But what came wasn't sleep—it was waves of hallucinations.

The ceiling began to twist and distort.

"Mom?" she called out, her voice low.

Dead silence. No answer.

A figure appeared in the corner of the room, wearing a patient gown, long hair loose, face deathly pale—her mother.

"Mom!" She struggled to sit up. "Mom—"

The figure said nothing, just stood there quietly looking at her, tears streaming down.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I dragged you down. I'm so sorry."

The figure remained silent. Its expression shifted from sadness to fierce anger. Black blood poured from its eyes, and then it opened its mouth and let out a piercing scream.

"You killed me—"

"No. It wasn't me." Amelia covered her ears. "It was Violet. She planned everything."

The hallucination of her mother paid no attention. It walked toward her step by step, heavy footsteps pounding in her chest.

"You killed me. And you killed your child too. You're the guilty one."

"I'm not. I'm not."

She shook her head frantically, tears flying.

The figure kept coming, closer and closer, until its face was inches from hers.

Then it changed—into Violet's.

"Didn't you want to die?" a cold voice came from the rotting face. "I'm here to grant your wish."

Amelia's eyes snapped open.

The room was empty. All hallucinations were gone. She knew the water had been drugged.

Violet hadn't come to visit. She had come to kill her.

She propped herself up on the edge of the bed and sat up, her whole body shaking. The drug hadn't fully worn off—the room still swayed slightly, faint screams still echoed in her ears. But her mind was clearer than ever.

Violet was determined to kill her.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room that had imprisoned her for so long. Here, she had been drained of blood, subjected to malicious treatment and humiliation, living like livestock waiting to be slaughtered.

She wouldn't stay trapped anymore. She wouldn't let Violet control her again.

She struggled to her feet, bracing against the wall, and shuffled to the door. It was locked.

She turned and scanned the room. She felt around the nightstand and found a lighter. Benjamin had left it behind during one of his visits—he always lit a cigarette and watched her blood draw through the smoke.

She flicked the switch. A small flame flickered, lighting the dim room.

She raised her hand and threw the lighter onto the bed.

The moment the flame touched the fabric, it shot up. Flames devoured the white sheets, crackling. She stood by the door and watched the fire spread.

Burn it all. Burn this cage. Burn the unbearable past and the desperate woman she had become. Turn everything to ash.

Thick smoke filled the air, black and choking. It poured into her nose, throat, and lungs. She coughed violently, tears and mucus streaming down her face.

The fire spread from the bed to the walls. The heat made the paint bubble and peel, exposing gray cement underneath. The fluorescent light burst in the heat wave, glass shattering everywhere.

The whole room was engulfed. The scorching air singed her hair. Her skin burned.

"Amelia—"

A shout came from outside the door. She turned and saw Violet's terrified face through the small glass window.

"Fire. Open the door, quick."

Violet shouted, panic in her voice. But her hand rested on the handle, not turning it. She just stood outside, quietly watching Amelia in the flames.

"Violet." Amelia's voice was hoarse and weak, but she knew Violet could hear her. "Let's end this together."

She reached for the door handle, intending to pull the woman inside with her, to die together in the fire.

Her fingertips barely touched the handle when the door was shoved open.

The rush of air pushed the raging flames toward her face. The force slammed her backward to the ground.

Violet stood in the doorway. The terror on her face was gone, replaced by a sinister smile. She lifted her foot and kicked hard at Amelia's chest.

Amelia flew backward, straight into the sea of flames.

The fire swallowed her. She heard her own skin scorch, smelled her hair burning. Then came Violet's shouts from outside the door.

"Put out the fire. Hurry. Amelia is still inside."

A moment later, every sound in the world went silent.