Sophia sprang forward, fingers reaching for Katelyn’s arm. “Stop right there! What did you give me?”
Before she could make contact, the bodyguards outside stepped in, blocking her path.
Instinct told Sophia to fight, but the moment she moved, something was wrong. Her strength drained from her limbs, her body suddenly weak. She collapsed to the floor in a heap. Excruciating waves of numbing pain erupted throughout her body, intensifying with each passing second.
Sophia had known pain before, but this pain wrenched a scream from her—raw and unrestrained, as if her tendons were snapping apart, one agonizing inch at a time. Her face twisted into a mask of torment, reflecting suffering far more horrific than any previous injury.
Violent tremors racked Sophia’s body, leaving her too weak to stand. She could only curl into herself on the cold floor.
“Katelyn!” The name escaped through her colorless lips. But no response came to her desperate call.
Katelyn had left, and this time, she intended for Sophia to suffer. If she let Sophia get away with this, who knew what Sophia would try next? So far, Katelyn had gained nothing truly informative and valuable from her. The situation looked increasingly grim.
For Sophia, the night stretched endlessly as relentless pain gripped her body, immune to any attempt at relief. Even when poison had controlled her system previously, it hadn’t produced suffering as terrible as this current torment.
Her fingers clutched the cabinet leg with such force that her knuckles turned white. The intensity of her agony needed no further illustration. Though accustomed to hardship from her dangerous lifestyle, Sophia’s tortured cries echoed through the backyard throughout the night. The wind and rain continued relentlessly until dawn, nature’s fury matching her suffering.
The next day, when Katelyn appeared in Sophia’s room, she found a broken woman.
→ ν﹒
Sophia appeared as though she had been completely soaked—no strand of hair nor piece of clothing remained dry. Her face had taken on a deathly pallor.
Gathering what little strength remained, she looked at Katelyn and whispered through trembling lips, “Fine, Katelyn. I’ll talk.”
That night was nothing short of a waking nightmare for Sophia. Never had she imagined Katelyn could transform into something so terrifying when provoked to anger.
As pain blazed through her body, Sophia hovered in that terrible space between life and death, feeling as though she had already perished. Yet, the relentless agony constantly reminded her that she was alive. Consciousness refused to leave her, forcing her to endure every moment of torment. It was a cruel testament to the potency of Katelyn’s poisons.
Katelyn bent down, gripping Sophia’s chin between her fingers. Her gaze was devoid of warmth as she murmured, “Just because I’m usually calm doesn’t mean I won’t take drastic measures. Everyone has limits, Sophia. Don’t test mine.”
.
.
.