Chapter 4

Back in my room, I immediately locked the door.

I rushed to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, stuck my fingers down my throat, and forced myself to vomit.

I didn't stop until I'd thrown up everything in my stomach, even the acid. I collapsed weakly against the sink.

In the mirror, my face was deathly pale, my eyes bloodshot—like a ghost crawling out of hell.

I didn't cry.

My tears had dried up the moment I saw the truth.

I dug deep in my backpack and pulled out a small glass vial, carefully collecting the residual soup squeezed from the sponge in my sleeve.

This was evidence of their crime.

I pulled out an old, obsolete phone, connected it to a power bank, hid it in the pile of clutter under my bed, and activated the long-term recording function.

After finishing all this, I lay in bed, closed my eyes, and waited quietly.

Midnight.

Light footsteps came from outside the door.

Click—the lock was opened from the outside with a spare key.

I slowed my breathing and lay completely still.

Linda and Richard tiptoed to my bedside.

"Is she asleep?" Richard whispered.

Linda waved her hand in front of my eyes, then pushed my shoulder.

"Out cold. This drug is strong—couldn't wake a pig."

She laughed coldly, her tone devoid of any pity for her daughter—only the satisfaction of a successful scheme.

"Alright, quit talking. Hurry up and get the consent form," Richard urged.

The sound of rustling papers filled the air.

"Here, hold her thumb and press it right here." Linda directed.

I felt a rough hand grab my right thumb and press it toward something cold—an ink pad.

*[Once she's stamped her thumbprint, this girl won't be able to fly away even with wings. Even if she wakes up later, it'll be in black and white. She won't be able to deny it.]*

Just as my fingertip was about to touch that so-called "voluntary organ donation consent form," I suddenly opened my eyes.

In the darkness, my eyes shone brightly.

"Linda, Richard—what are you doing?"