Chapter 53: Death Is a Luxury
Yet, like a woman possessed, Raylee hurled anything within reach at them. It was as if she'd returned to her first days in prison, fueled by the same fierce determination. She'd been consumed by the belief that without resistance, without drawing blood, the guards and bullies would never relent. However, her resistance gradually waned, replaced by a creeping numbness. Despite the enormity of her suffering, no one from the Goodridge family had intervened; indeed, her resistance only emboldened her tormentors, leaving her to suffer the consequences. She understood this principle, yet…
“Even so,” she muttered, “I will not give up!” Having survived prison, she knew she must take responsibility for her life and newfound freedom. She would not surrender, allowing them to control her again with such audacious impunity!
Crash! In the sickroom, jars, bottles, medical equipment, and personal items lay scattered, the result of Raylee's outburst. “Come on then,” she screamed, “I’ll fight you all to the death! Kill me if you dare! If you can’t, don’t even think about keeping me here!” She picked up a shard of glass, pressing it to her neck. The shard sliced her skin, drawing blood, yet she seemed numb, devoid of feeling.
Neville rushed in at the commotion. Seeing Raylee's self-destruction, he slapped his thigh in frustration. “We can’t let you die! No one’s trying to kill you! If you died, we couldn’t complete our task! Miss, don’t do anything foolish. Your family made it clear they can’t afford any mishaps!”
“If you can, keep an eye on me 24/7, because I guarantee I’ll seize any chance to end my life!” Raylee declared, her gaze unwavering. The hatred and murderous intent in her eyes were almost unbearable; even the hardened staff averted their gaze.
Neville tried to soothe her. “Don’t give up on life. The world is beautiful; what’s troubling you so much?”
“Cut the chatter and bring Samuel to me. If not him, someone from the Goodridge family. Failing that, even someone from the Lorimer family!”
“All right, all right,” Neville said, taking out his phone. “I’ll contact your brother immediately.” Raylee's heart settled. As long as she could see someone, she had a chance to escape.
Everyone restrained her limbs and confiscated the glass. Raylee found herself strapped to a hospital bed once more. “You’re all despicable and shameless! Let me go! Keep me tied up forever if you dare!” she shrieked.
“Threatening me with death? Hmph, I’ve seen plenty like you,” Neville sneered. “Administer electroconvulsive therapy. Let’s see if that teaches her manners. If not, continue the treatment!”
A nurse secured the ECT machine to Raylee's body and initiated the charge. The electric current caused Raylee’s limbs to stiffen, followed by a searing pain that spread through her body. It felt as though millions of nails were piercing her, tearing at every nerve. The agony was unbearable.
Neville clasped his hands behind his back. “See? Obedient now, aren’t you? Let me tell you something, Miss. In this place, death is a luxury you can only dream of. Manic episode? I’ll medicate you, inject you, shock you! Lose control? I’ll have you restrained. Basic needs? Don’t worry, we’ll handle it! Refuse to eat? Nasogastric tube, three times a day. How’s that for an experience? Learn to submit!”
Raylee was too pained to speak. She lay numb and dazed, her eyes vacant, staring at the ceiling. Hatred consumed her, focused on Samuel, the man she longed to destroy. Four years ago, he’d sent her to prison, indifferent to her suffering. Four years later, he employed this ruthless method. Had she known, she would have preferred death in prison! No, she had to survive. Even as a vengeful spirit, she would exact her retribution.
Time passed. A middle-aged nurse entered. Seeing Raylee subdued, she smiled with satisfaction.