Chapter 4

The memory playback showed memories of me being abandoned by my parents, leaving me destitute on the streets. It then went on to show the orphanage, which afforded me the chance at an education. It then showed most of the time I spent with Tanya, illustrating how we forged an unbreakable bond in university and how I was immediately smitten by Timothy at Tanya's birthday celebration. Though the scenes kept changing, the key information Timothy was seeking was nowhere to be found. Having witnessed that, the technician stood helplessly before the humming equipment. "Ms. Lund's mental resistance is unprecedented, so much so that the extractor alone can no longer forcefully extract the memory. This is, frankly, the most resilient case we have ever handled, Mr. Sutton." I managed to turn my blank, unfocused eyes toward Timothy. I tried desperately to speak, but I was unable to make a sound. Timothy, however, interpreted my actions as pure mockery. He exploded with a laugh born of sheer malice, grabbed the technician by the collar, and snarled, "You'd better do whatever it takes to get it done!" It was then that an underclasswoman, who had once had a crush on Timothy, tugged at his sleeve from the nearest seats. "You know, the human body has a built-in defense mechanism. If her sense of pain is pushed past its limit, she will instinctively forfeit control of her memories." Jasmine immediately wiped away her tears, found a pair of rusty scissors in the area, and handed them to Timothy. "You should cut her fingers off, Timothy. No one can possibly endure that kind of pain! As Tanya's family, it's only right that we hold Miranda accountable for Tanya's tragedy!" The audience turned their attention to Timothy. Some even roared in outrage. "Get on with it, Mr. Sutton! It's about time we know the truth!" "If we let the trafficker operate for one more day, the trail of new victims will only grow longer and more horrific!" In the midst of the crowd's frantic incitement, Timothy's resolve hardened like cold steel. He approached me, his hand lingering over my slender fingers for a terrifying moment. He furrowed his brow before he personally used those rusty scissors to cut off my thumb. "You brought this upon yourself! You're so depraved that even death can never wash away your sins!" I instinctively jolted up from the chair at the agonizing shock of the amputation, my limp body violently contorting into a grotesque, twitching mess as if electrocuted. In that instant, blood spurted from the corners of my eyes and my nose, splattering rhythmically on the floor. Even as I trembled, I forced out a final, shaky warning, saying, "You'll live to regret this, Timothy." Timothy cast a cold, indifferent look at me, then drove the scissors once more into my mangled wound. "I only regret not realizing your utter wickedness sooner! You're the one who destroyed Tanya's life!" He cut off every one of my ten fingers. My screams of agony echoed throughout the stadium. I was at the absolute limit of my endurance, and in that instant, the memory extractor succeeded, forcing the final, damning memory to appear. In the memory, I was moving through the dark, narrow corridors of Hook-Up Club, finally stopping in front of a slightly ajar door. I held my breath and peered at the figure through the door. I suddenly became enraged, kicked the door open, and started fighting violently with the person I found inside the room. The playback on the screen swayed wildly as it was from my point of view. It wasn't until the assailant forced me to the ground that the image steadied, revealing a face that caused a collective gasp of shock among the onlookers. "How could this be?" "What is Miranda trying to do?"