“You’re not dead? Then clean this mess up. Keep it quiet. Chloe was exhausted last night and is still sleeping!”
Andrew was always rigid, even keeping a household schedule. In the past, if I woke up just one minute late due to illness, he would mock and humiliate me.
But Chloe was different. For her, he bent every rule.
The scent of hawthorn blossoms in the air made me nauseous. I swept up the torn clothes and threw them away.
Seeing that I didn’t cry or fight back, but obediently cleaned instead, Andrew looked surprised. After all, I used to cause a scene whenever I was treated this way.
But now, I no longer cared.
The living room was a mess—clothes mixed with dog fur and blood.
Thinking of last night made my heart ache.
Just because Chloe was allergic to dog fur, Andrew had locked away the dog I had raised since childhood in the basement.
In order to save me, little Buddy broke free from his chains, smashed through the glass at the door with his head, and dragged me to the roadside.
I was saved, but Buddy was gravely injured and was now fighting for his life at the veterinary clinic.
As I carefully picked up the blood-stained fur, shards of glass cut my hands until they bled.