Chapter 18 Death Would Be Mercy
Caroline collapsed onto the cold marble floor.
What would Celeste do with that letter?
How would she twist every word? What motives would she invent?
Time stretched endlessly. Every second burned through her nerves like acid.
Finally, heavy footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
Alexander appeared.
He held the notebook in his hand.
He did not approach immediately. He stopped several feet away, head lowered, eyes fixed on the pages.
Caroline's heart skipped a beat.
She wanted to look away, to hide from his gaze, but her body felt as if she were nailed to the floor. Even moving her eyes took effort.
All she could do was watch his long fingers slowly turn the pages, the soft rustle of paper filling the silence.
At last, he reached the page covered in her cramped handwriting.
He stepped closer and stopped in front of her.
Under her frozen stare, he pinched the edge of that page—the one carrying all her pain, her desperation, her final goodbye.
His face remained expressionless as he tore the page from the notebook.
Caroline's body jerked violently.
Alexander did not stop.
He folded the torn page in half. Then in half again. Then he gripped both edges and began to tear.
Once. Twice. He ripped it into pieces until no words remained legible.
Scraps of paper fluttered from his long fingers, drifting onto the cold marble floor like drifting snow.
When he finished, he finally looked at her.
"You want to die?"
Caroline's lips trembled. Her voice broke into fractured sounds, but no complete words came out.
Her tears had long since dried. Only the burning ache in her eye sockets remained.
"You think this is how you pay your debt?"
The corner of Alexander's mouth curved upward slowly, forming a smile so cold it could freeze blood.
"Write a pathetic, self-pitying suicide note and leave it for who? Edith?"
He laughed bitterly.
"She would not want to read it. She would find it disgusting."
He bent down, his icy fingers gripping her chin with bruising force.
"Caroline. I already told you."
He spoke slowly, each word sharp and deliberate, like a blade scraping across ice.
"That life you are living? Edith gave it to you. In her last moments, she chose to leave it with you. You have no right to waste it. And you sure as hell do not have the right to use it for some dramatic performance of guilt or remorse.
"You want to die to escape? To avoid the punishment you deserve? Or maybe you want to die to prove how much you are suffering, how sorry you are?"
His voice dropped lower, cold enough to make her spine tighten.
"I am telling you—it is not happening.
"You do not even have the privilege of choosing death.
"Because that life? You stole it. Edith sacrificed herself so you could survive. Until she forgives you—if she ever does—you are going to stay awake and in pain, paying back even a fraction of what you owe."
He paused, his gaze pinning her like nails.
He released her chin and shoved her away roughly, delivering his final verdict in the coldest tone imaginable.
"You will live. Day after day. Year after year. Until I allow you to die. Or until living itself becomes something you cannot even hope for."
Caroline stared at him blankly.
The last shred of hope—the desperate wish to escape, to end the pain—was crushed completely under the weight of his icy words.
Even death was forbidden.
Even ending her suffering required his permission.
Caroline could not hold herself up anymore. Her body pitched forward, her forehead slamming hard against the cold, unforgiving floor.
But she felt no pain. Only the endless cold spreading from her limbs into the hollow of her chest.
She used the last of her strength to reach out, her fingers clutching weakly at the hem of Alexander's perfectly pressed trousers.
"Alexander…" Her voice broke.
"Please… kill me…"
"Take my life and give it back to Edith…"
"I cannot take this anymore. I really cannot…"
"Please, let me die! Let me apologize to Edith. Let me give her back what I took. Please…"
Her words spilled out in incoherent desperation, her forehead pressed against the cold tip of his leather shoe.
Dignity. Decency. Shame. None of it mattered anymore.
She just wanted it to end—immediately, right now, by any means necessary—as long as this torment worse than death would stop.
Alexander looked down at the wretched woman groveling at his feet like a wounded animal.
His eyes remained cold, devoid of any emotion.
As if he were looking at a disgusting insect—one not even worth crushing because it would dirty his hands.
He lifted his foot and kicked her hand away roughly.
Caroline fell back onto the floor, tears sliding silently down her face.
Alexander turned away without another glance and walked toward the far end of the hallway.
"Watch her," he said coldly to the guard at the door.
"Do not let her die. She needs to stay alive to atone."
"Yes, sir," the guard responded.
The footsteps faded into the distance. The world fell silent.
The guard stood like a statue, eyes forward, as if she did not exist.
Caroline remained in her collapsed position for a long time, her body rigid as a plank, unmoving.
Her tears had dried. Her eye sockets burned with dryness.
Her chest felt hollow, as if cold wind were blowing straight through her.
Even the right to beg for death had been stripped away.
So this was it. Living really could be more painful than dying.
She did not know how much time passed. A thin beam of light from the other end of the hallway slanted across the floor, illuminating a scrap of torn paper.
Caroline lifted her head and realized night had fallen.
Time had lost all meaning. The agony of existence threatened to tear her apart.
It took a long, long time before her mind cleared even slightly.
Of course. She had not finished paying her debt. What right did she have to die?
Suddenly, she reached out toward the guard standing motionless nearby.
The guard frowned in confusion and looked down at her.
Caroline tilted her head back, gazing up at him with utter humility.
"My phone…"
She forced the words from her parched throat.
The guard's frown deepened. "Sir's orders. You are not allowed to—"
"Please." Caroline's voice was barely a whisper.
"Alexander wants me to live. I will. I need to contact Lina. At least… let me treat my wounds. If I die, I cannot atone."
The guard hesitated, seeming to weigh his options, then walked toward Alexander's study.
Caroline collapsed back onto the floor and closed her eyes.
She murmured to herself, "Edith… I will stay alive. I promise."