Chapter 367 Why Haven't You Died Yet
Feeling his professional competence challenged once again, Clifton took a deep breath and forced out a smile.
"Mr. Bryant, how about we change locations? Treatment requires an environment that feels absolutely familiar to you."
Finnley thought for a moment, then got up from the sofa. "Let's go to the bedroom."
Preston and Sophia were waiting outside. Hearing the door open, they immediately perked up.
"How did it go?"
Seeing Finnley and Clifton come out, Preston and Sophia quickly asked.
Clifton shook his head with a defeated expression. "No progress yet, so I'm planning to switch to a place Mr. Bryant is familiar with."
"Don't worry, it'll be fine."
Finnley walked up to Sophia, reached out and ruffled her hair, gently reassuring her.
Once in the bedroom, Finnley lay down on the bed, and Clifton started the hypnotherapy again.
Before closing his eyes, he deliberately grabbed the pillow Sophia usually used.
Her pillow had a faint, pleasant scent—a very familiar, comforting fragrance mixed with a fruity wood aroma.
It smelled really nice.
And it quickly helped Finnley let his guard down.
Clifton was surprised to discover that this time, Finnley didn't suddenly open his eyes. Everything went smoothly.
However, halfway through the hypnotherapy, Finnley on the bed suddenly furrowed his brows tightly, his thin lips pressed into a straight line.
He seemed to be recalling some unpleasant memories.
Clifton slowly leaned in closer, carefully observing his reaction.
"What do you see? Can you tell me?"
Finnley apparently heard him. His brows moved slightly, but he didn't speak.
Clifton noticed his resistance and continued to guide him. "Don't be nervous. I'm here to help you. Tell me, what do you see?"
"An abyss, an endless abyss..."
At this moment, Finnley was trapped in complete darkness.
He stood in an extremely empty place. The entire sky was gloomy, without a trace of light.
He stood there motionless, warily surveying his surroundings.
Then he heard a child crying. The crying was very faint, but it made his heart skip a beat.
He walked toward the source of the sound. The further he went, the clearer the crying became.
Finally, at the edge of a cliff, he saw a small child, probably only two or three years old.
The child was curled up in a ball, crouching at the cliff's edge. The slightest movement could make him slide down.
Finnley walked over and crouched in front of him, asking curiously, "Why are you crying?"
The little boy suddenly looked up. His bright eyes were brimming with tears. "Mom... if you don't love me, why did you give birth to me?"
Finnley's heart sank heavily. He followed the little boy's gaze and looked behind him.
He saw a familiar person wearing an elegant dark green dress, with a refined and dignified bearing.
Amelia?
The name suddenly popped into his mind. The next second, Amelia's originally calm expression suddenly changed, and she lunged at him viciously.
"Why don't you just die? I'd rather not have you as a son!"
"Why aren't you dead yet?"
Finnley instinctively raised his hands to block Amelia's attack, only to find he couldn't touch her.
He turned back and saw the little boy lean backward and jump off the cliff.
He was shocked and tried to reach out to grab him, but only caught empty air.
He could only watch helplessly as the little boy fell, getting farther and farther away.
Below the cliff was an endless abyss, with boundless darkness that seemed ready to swallow him whole.
Before he could react, the surrounding scene suddenly changed to an orphanage.
Finnley looked at his surroundings, his heart sinking again. He took long strides and ran inside.
Sure enough, under the basketball hoop in the small courtyard, he saw a group of boys.
At that moment, they were surrounding a little boy about two or three years old, punching and kicking him.
Their voices should have been the most innocent and pure, but the words they spoke were like something from hell.
"Hit him! His dad's a murderer and mentally ill, and his mom's a homewrecker!"
"My mom said some things are hereditary. When he grows up, he'll definitely be a murderer too!"
"Murderer! Beat the murderer to death!"
The little boy surrounded in the middle lay on the ground, curled up in a ball, his hands desperately protecting his head.
Wave after wave of pain came from his body, but he still gritted his teeth, not letting himself cry out.
He thought to himself that once they got tired of beating him, it would be over...
Just endure a bit more.
Just endure a bit more and it'll be fine.
After what seemed like forever, the group of children finally got tired and left one by one.
The little boy lay weakly on the ground. All his exposed skin was covered in injuries—barely a patch of intact skin visible.
Finnley watched this scene helplessly, his hands clenched tightly into fists.
The little boy seemed to sense something. He slowly opened his eyes and gave him a weak smile.
"Does it hurt?"
Even knowing he wouldn't hear him, Finnley still asked.
The little boy struggled to get up but fell back down again and again.
He gritted his teeth and struggled with all his might. "Can't cry, can't give up..."
Can't cry, can't give up...
Finnley's heart twisted painfully. He lifted his foot and followed.
This memory was his, so he knew very well what would happen next.
Today, an important person would come to the orphanage and choose one child from the group to take home.
According to the orphanage director, this important person was very wealthy, and whoever he took back would definitely have a good life.
So many children looked forward to it, waiting to perform well when he arrived.
Only the young Finnley hid alone in a corner. While others changed into clean clothes, he was the only one dirty and covered in injuries.
A teacher from the orphanage looked at him with disgust and spat, "Bad luck! If people see you like this, they'll think we abused you. Get back to your room now."
The young Finnley met the teacher's sinister gaze and shrank his neck in fear, leaving dejectedly.
He returned alone to the small courtyard behind the orphanage, looking up at the sky, his eyes full of confusion.
TV said the world was big, but why wasn't there a single place willing to welcome him, to accept him?
Could it be that, like those people said, he'd be better off dead?
While he was lost in thought, a group of people suddenly came over.
The usually harsh teacher now wore a gentle, flattering smile on her face. "Mr. Bryant, this way please. This is our orphanage's courtyard."
"If you see a child you like, please let me know."
Valentin Bryant was tall with a long frame, wearing a white mask on his face that concealed his true appearance.
Valentin paused and pointed toward where the young Finnley was. "Who's that?"
The teacher glanced at the young Finnley, her expression immediately darkening. "Mr. Bryant, he's also one of our children, but he's quite naughty and always likes to fight."
Valentin walked up to the young Finnley and looked down at him. "You're good at fighting?"
The young Finnley looked at him, suddenly remembering what the teacher had said.
Valentin was very rich. If he could be taken away by him, he would definitely have a good life.
So he nodded against his better judgment, and was ultimately successfully adopted.
But at that moment, he didn't know that the tragedy of his life wasn't ending—it was just beginning...