But the dreadful suffocation didn't ease. Instead, my throat grew dry and painful, my coughing louder and more violent. The white handkerchief I held tightly in my hand couldn't suppress my coughs or stop me from feeling overwhelmed by despair. After a while, I stared at the bright red bloodstain on the handkerchief, dazed.
At that moment, I was acutely aware that I was going to die.
I silently hid the handkerchief under my pillow and thought, if my parents punish me again, I'll just cough up blood on them and make a scene.
What their reactions would be then? Would they regret, worry, or find me disgusting and unlucky?
They would probably find me disgusting and unlucky.
But soon, I couldn't concern myself with these thoughts anymore.
Violet had caused significant trouble.
I hadn't fully healed when the butler summoned me to the main hall. Before I entered, I heard Violet's crying and my mother's wailing.
"What are we going to do? My poor Violet!"
I pushed open the door, and the crying stopped abruptly. My father, who looked worried, glared at me.
I bowed my head. "Father, Mother."