Is she coughing up blood because of Philip Shaw?
Or is her body really starting to gradually fall apart... growing weaker...
She leaned against the bed and it took her a while to stop the nosebleed.
The floor was covered with red tissues.
The exhaustion of the past few months seemed to surge along with the blood loss. She leaned against the headboard, looking down in a daze at the paper ball stained with blood in her palm.
Strangely, she wasn't afraid. Death had always been a relief to her.
It wasn't the first time in her life she wished for death.
When she was young, she thought of ending it all, so as not to become a burden on Eric Candi.
She had always been pessimistic, always waiting for someone to give her a hand, living muddleheadedly to such an age, yet still not quite figuring it out.
Perhaps there are some people in this world who live without any meaning; her living brought no good to her friends, and dying would only make them sad.
