Whenever it was windy or rainy, my mother would look out the window, worrying about whether my sister, who lived in a villa with a nanny and attended a prestigious school, was warm and well-fed. She never cared that I was dressed in thin clothes, my stomach growling from hunger. Things that others could get easily, I had to fight tooth and nail for even a little bit.
Now, it seemed I didn't want them anymore. A long time later, Justice finally came back. He looked at me, a hint of guilt on his face. My stomach was twisting in unbearable pain. Even the painkillers weren't working. I remembered what the doctor said and suddenly, I didn't want to fight anymore. I said it was Zoey who tried to hurt me with the knife.
Justice didn't seem surprised at all after hearing this. "I know. You don't have legs. There's no way you could have reached into the drawer for a knife."
I picked up a pillow and frantically hit him with it, shouting in despair. "Then why do you always say it's my fault?"
Justice frowned deeply, constantly running his hand through his hair.