When the smaller child accidentally knocked over Arson’s blocks, he just stared blankly, showing no reaction. No crying, no fussing, not even a flicker of emotion.
Mr. Sharl called me into his office, his expression grave and handed me a lab report. “Millie, where did you get this pill bottle?”
“From a child,” I said, my heart sinking.
“Nonsense!” Mr. Sharl’s tone was unusually harsh. “This is a psychiatric drug banned in Dalmora years ago! It was used to control serious criminals! Long-term use can severely damage the central nervous system, causing slow reactions, reduced cognition and memory loss! In short, it turns a normal person into an idiot—gradually!”
“How long… has this child been taking it?”
My nails dug into my palms. “Maybe… for many years.”
Mr. Sharl said, shaking his head in pain. “It’s cruel! This is practically murder!”
The office was deathly silent.
I held the thin report in my hands, but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Linda. You have such a cruel heart. Not only did you steal my son, but you tried to turn him into a wreck with your own hands!
I left the office. When Arson saw me, he immediately stood up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Millie…”