Twisted Ties of Love novel Chapter 508

"Is this why you came to see me today?" Within a span of few seconds, Nathaniel had regained his composure. His previous irritation was replaced with a cold, unfeeling gaze that resembled a grave lost in the darkness of the night.

Izabella didn't say much else. She passed a file through the visiting room window, "These are things Bell left behind."

At the mention of Bell, Nathaniel quickly grabbed the file, his grip tightening with each passing second.

Visitation hours were short, leaving Izabella with little time for reminiscing. Besides, there was nothing much to reminisce about with Nathaniel, a man she considered scum, who deserved his fate.

"Don't cry while going through these. I wouldn't want Bell's belongings tainted by your tears. However," Izabella paused, smirking before continuing, "you can cry louder on the day of your execution, as loud as you can, so Bell can hear you from the grave!”

Nathaniel’s cries needed to be loud enough to reach Bell, who has been dead for too long to hear. Wail until his throat was sore, cry out all his repentance, regrets, and self-blame.

Izabella stood up, dusting off non-existent dirt from her dress. As she was leaving, she noticed something odd about Nathaniel’s leg. Was it healed?

She didn't ponder on it further. Regardless of its condition, he couldn’t escape his impending execution two weeks from now.

Before she left, Izabella nonchalantly commented, "It's a sunny day outside."

Locked up in prison, Nathaniel hadn't taken a step outside. He couldn't see the sky, let alone feel the warmth of the sun. Even the fiercest sunlight couldn’t warm his cold-hearted soul.

"I'm leaving," Izabella announced.

Trembling, Nathaniel got up from his chair. Each step he took echoed in the silence; the sound wasn't from his handcuffs if you listened carefully.

Returning to his cell, a single room with only a bed and a chair, Nathaniel sat down and opened the file. The first document he saw was Bell's medical report.

—Severe depression, suicidal tendencies, immediate hospitalization required.

So Bell really did have depression, severe depression. Izabella hadn't lied to mock him.

He knew all about this illness. His mother had suffered from it, ultimately taking her own life by slashing her wrists in a cold bathtub.

His mother endured for five years before succumbing to her illness. Bell didn't even last two years.

According to Izabella, Bell died from a drug overdose in a room filled with gas.

No one likes pain, and Bell was no exception. Even a harsh word from him would send her trembling with fear.

How could someone so frail and tender swallow so many sleeping pills, turn on the gas, and calmly lay on her bed, waiting for death?

Nathaniel, with a hollow, weary look in his eyes, took out the papers from the file. The handwriting was unmistakably Bell's, neat and beautiful.

In Bell's handwritten tales, there was a Mr. Krueger.

Nathaniel read through each word, each sentence, feeling as if his soul was sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire with each passing line.

—Today is the ninth day since I left Mr. Krueger. He taught me how to live, and how it feels to wish I were dead. The sky is so blue, the sun so warm. I thought I would be free once I left, but this world doesn't even have a place for me. How can there be any freedom? I bought a small 50-square-meter apartment. It feels so empty, not the apartment, but my heart.

—On the 52nd day since I left Mr. Krueger, I still think about him from time to time. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy. He doesn't love me, but I still hold onto this one-sided love. The fingers he broke still hurt even after healing, just like my deeply ingrained love for him. The pain intensifies every time it rains.

—Today marks a hundred days since I left Mr. Krueger. Time really flies. I haven't dreamed of you for a long time. They say that if you dream of someone three times, it means you're not meant to be. I've dreamed of you more than sixty times. Does that mean we won't even meet in death? I don't know why, but I suddenly feel sad.

—On the 120th day, Mr. Krueger, I think I've caused some trouble. They say it's my fault, but I don't understand what I did wrong. I didn't seduce the director, didn't destroy anyone's relationship, didn't two-time anyone, didn't slander anyone. I tried explaining, but they didn't believe me. You were right, someone as useless as me doesn't belong here.

—I'm afraid of loneliness. When I'm alone, I start overthinking. My heavy memories weigh me down, making it hard to breathe. The doctor says I have depression. I asked the doctor if this illness could kill me. He shook his head. If it can't kill me, then why did he look so sad for me? I'm not afraid of death. I'm just afraid of pain. I think my memory is starting to fail me since my depression got worse. I keep forgetting things, but there's one thing I'll never forget, a man named Nathaniel. He was my savior, but he eventually abandoned me. Why did Mr. Krueger abandon me? Perhaps I wasn't good enough, or I did something wrong, or I upset him. That's why he handed me off to another man. When I was little, my mom would always threaten to abandon me if I misbehaved. So, it was my fault, wasn't it?

—300 days since I left Mr. Krueger. I saw someone calling me crazy today. I wanted to argue, but then I remembered the diagnosis the doctor gave me. The words 'mental patient' were so clear, I couldn't refute it. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. I suddenly want to leave you, Mr. Krueger. Mr. Krueger, would you be happy if my death could bring Ms. Salotti back? May your wishes come true, may all your dreams come true, may the one you yearn walk into your life one day.

June 1st was Bell's birthday. On that day, she left her last words on Twitter, just one word.

"Goodbye", she bid the world farewell, but all she received were hundreds of thousands of insults in the comments, not a single "Happy Birthday".