Chapter 17 Are You Going to Commit Suicide?
Night deepened.
The blackout blinds shut out Grandhaven's glittering skyline. Not a sliver of light remained.
The apartment lay in silence. Caroline wondered if anyone was even there anymore. Perhaps they had left her to die—of thirst, starvation, or simply fear.
She curled up in the corner of the bed, wrapped in a thin blanket, trying to fight off the cold radiating from deep inside her chest.
She didn't want to sleep. She didn't dare. She fought to keep her eyes open.
But exhaustion dragged her under anyway.
Half-asleep, half-awake, she heard it.
A girl's voice. Sobbing. Drifting through the crack beneath the door.
Caroline's body went rigid. Her eyes snapped open. She held her breath.
A hallucination?
"Caroline…"
The voice came again. Clearer this time.
Mournful. Distant. As if it came from somewhere far away—or just outside, at the end of the hall.
Edith's voice.
Caroline clapped her hands over her ears, shaking her head violently.
No. It's not real. I'm tired. I'm hearing things.
"Caroline… I'm so cold…"
"Caroline… so cold…"
"Why didn't you pull me up…"
"Caroline… why did you push me…"
The voice came in fragments, mixed with the sound of water and weeping. It grew louder. Closer.
As if someone barefoot and dripping wet was walking down the dark hallway, step by step, toward the door.
"Ah!" Caroline screamed, diving under the blanket.
She pressed her palms hard against her ears, but the voice burrowed through, straight into her skull.
"It wasn't me! Edith! I didn't push you! Please believe me!" she sobbed into the fabric, her words incoherent.
The crying outside paused.
Then came the sound of fingernails scraping against the door.
Caroline's blood turned to ice.
She threw off the blanket, staring at the locked door with wide, terrified eyes.
What was out there?
The person who sent the note and the bloodstained fabric? Or… Edith's ghost?
Terror consumed her. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.
She could only stare at the door, her mind teetering on the edge of collapse.
She didn't sleep that night.
When the maid brought breakfast and water the next morning, the door cracked open just enough to let in a thread of light. Caroline lifted her pale, hollow face. The voice was gone.
The door shut again. Darkness returned.
But a thin line of light remained beneath the door.
Caroline dragged the blanket with her, crawling across the floor to huddle in the corner near it. That faint glow brought a sliver of comfort. But the fear crept back quickly.
The crying in the night—was it real? Or was she losing her mind?
The note. The fabric. Who sent them? Why?
She didn't know.
She only knew she was breaking.
Alexander didn't come. Celeste seemed to have vanished. Only the maid appeared, three times a day, reminding Caroline that time still moved, that day still turned to night.
Every night, the mournful crying returned.
At first, Caroline had been paralyzed with fear. Now, she no longer tried to decide if it was real.
Her mind was fracturing under the pressure. She would catch herself murmuring "I'm sorry" without knowing why. Sometimes tears would stream down her face, and she wouldn't know what she was crying for.
Living had become a slow, agonizing torture.
The thought of death began to creep in.
It wasn't new. Over the past five years, it had surfaced countless times in her darkest moments, only to be shoved down by her promise to Edith, by some pathetic sense of duty.
But now, that promise felt like a chain. That duty, a cruel joke.
Edith had told her to live. But was this living?
Trapped in fear, humiliation, and despair, a walking corpse denied even the right to end it—because Alexander said she didn't deserve it.
Maybe death was the real escape.
For everyone. Including herself.
And maybe, if she died, she could see Edith again. Tell her she was sorry. Let Edith decide—forgiveness or punishment. Either would be better than this.
The thought crystallized. For the first time in days, Caroline's mind felt almost clear.
She moved stiffly, her body mechanical, and felt her way to the desk. She pulled out a notebook and pen.
What should she write?
To whom?
Her parents? No. They wouldn't want to read it. They'd think it was another performance.
Lina? The kind girl would grieve, but Caroline didn't want to burden her anymore.
Alexander? No. He'd laugh, crumple it up, throw it away without reading.
Then she'd write it for Edith. A confession five years too late. One that might never reach her.
In the darkness, Caroline could barely see where the pen touched the page. But she let it fall anyway.
[Edith,
Don't be afraid. Don't be sad for me. This is my choice. I've thought about it for a long time, and I think it's the only ending that makes sense.
For five years, every day, every minute, every second, I've thought of you.
Your smile. Your voice. The way you pulled me through the garden, laughing. The way you'd sneak food you didn't like onto my plate, your eyes full of mischief. The way you spun in your white dress, the fabric blooming like a flower in the sun…
You were so beautiful. Like an uncut diamond—pure, radiant, warming everyone around you.
Dad. Mom. Alexander. Me.
We all loved you so much.]
Tears fell without warning. Caroline wiped them away roughly with the back of her hand and kept writing.
[But because of me, that diamond shattered.
Edith, I'm sorry.
A thousand apologies wouldn't erase even a fraction of my guilt.
If I hadn't run away that day, you wouldn't have come to the docks looking for me. You wouldn't have been caught in that gunfight. You wouldn't have…
I know "what ifs" don't matter. The truth is, I'm still here, and you're not. I destroyed our lives. I destroyed our family.
What right do I have to live? To breathe the air you can't breathe anymore? To see the sunlight you'll never see again?
Edith, I'm tired.
So tired. Living hurts more than dying.
Every day, I carry the guilt, the fear, the hatred and contempt of everyone around me.
Even death became a luxury, because someone told me I didn't deserve it.
But I can't do this anymore. Forgive me for being weak, okay? Forgive me for breaking my promise to you. Again.
I'm sorry, Edith.]
Caroline closed the notebook and set it on the small table beside the sofa.
Then she stood and walked slowly toward the bathroom.
She wanted to clean herself up before she died. To look presentable when she saw Edith in heaven. Not like this—broken and filthy.
She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face, combing through her tangled hair with her fingers. Even though she couldn't see herself in the dark, she wanted to be decent. For Edith.
Then she heard it.
A soft click from the bedroom door.
Caroline froze, spinning around.
The door swung open. Sunlight poured in, blinding her.
Celeste stood in the doorway, holding a decorative box of pastries.
"Edith, I brought you those cakes you used to love, you—" Celeste's voice trailed off. Her eyes landed on the notebook on the table.
She paused, then smiled faintly, as if she'd found something interesting.
"Caroline, are you writing something to pass the time?" she asked, her tone light. But her feet were already moving toward the table.
"Don't touch it!" Panic surged through Caroline.
She bolted out of the bathroom, lunging forward.
Too late.
Celeste snatched up the notebook, her fingers flipping it open—right to the page with the letter.
Celeste gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror.
"Caroline! What is this? A suicide note? You're planning to kill yourself?!"
"No… it's not…" Caroline scrambled forward, reaching for the notebook.
But Celeste snapped it shut, clutching it to her chest, stepping back out of reach.
"This is terrible! Caroline, how could you think this way? I have to tell Alex! You need help immediately!" Celeste spun toward the door, the notebook still in her hands.
"Give it back! Celeste! Give it back!" Caroline screamed, chasing after her. But her weakened body couldn't keep up. She stumbled, her legs barely holding her.
Celeste reached the door and pounded on it, her voice breaking into sobs. "Open the door! Hurry! Something's wrong! Caroline's trying to kill herself! She wrote a suicide note!"
The guards outside hesitated, then unlocked the door.
Celeste bolted through, clutching the notebook.
"Alex! Where are you? Something terrible's happened!"
Caroline reached the doorway, but the guard blocked her path, expressionless.
"Let me out! She took my things!" Caroline tried to shove past him, but he didn't budge.
She could only watch helplessly as Celeste disappeared around the corner.
It was over.
All of it.