On the 100th day of having Alzheimer’s, I couldn’t find my way home. I dialed Jack Thompson’s number. But what came through first was the sultry moan of his stepsister, “Mmm… Jack, your technique is getting better and better!” Then came his hoarse, angry voice. “Rachel Moore, are you fucking retarded?” “You know Emily can’t be without me because of her skin hunger syndrome, yet you dare to interfere.” “If you can’t make it back, just go find a sea and die!” Later, I fulfilled his wish and really went to die. He then kept asking my tombstone, “Rachel, what should I do if I can’t find you?” “Miss, are you done with your phone call?” the store owner asked, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. He continued, “Miss, where do you live? I’ll take you home.” “Don’t worry, I won’t charge you. I just think it’s not safe for a young woman to be out alone so late at night.” I looked at the owner in confusion, unable to say a word. I couldn’t remember where home was. I only remembered Jack Thompson’s phone number, but Jack hung up on me. He wouldn’t come to pick me up, and he even told me to go die. Leaving the store, the late autumn wind made my thin nightgown flutter loudly. It’s so cold! I hit my head hard, trying to remember where home was. But I just couldn’t recall. Just as I was getting agitated, a man approached me and asked warmly, “Miss Moore, I know where your home is. I’ll take you back.” I took several steps back, eyeing the man warily. Jack had said not to trust any man other than him. “Miss Moore, don’t be afraid. I’m not a bad person. I’m Jack’s friend. My name is Chris Sanders. He sent me to pick you up.” “Look, this is the message Jack sent me.” He even showed me a photo of him with Jack. I immediately smiled from ear to ear. I knew it. How could Jack not care about me? I’m his most beloved wife. I got into Chris’s car. Half an hour later, he took me to a dark, narrow basement. There was no Jack here, and Jack and my home didn’t look like this. I turned to leave, but Chris blocked me. I lowered my voice and said carefully, “Mister, let me go. I can give you a lot of money.” Jack had said that when in danger, pretend to be weak first, and save your life before anything else. Sure enough, hearing my words, Chris, who had looked vicious before, smiled. “Miss Moore, I’ll let you go, but I don’t want money. I just need you to… do me a small favor.” “What favor?” “I want Miss Moore to put these on and do a livestream for me.” Looking at the revealing lingerie, my forced calm instantly crumbled. I used all my strength to push Chris to the ground, then quickly ran towards the door. The moment my hand touched the doorknob, it felt like my scalp was being torn apart, followed by my whole body being slammed hard against the wall. “Bitch, you dare to run away!” “I’m telling you, you’re going to stream whether you like it or not!” “But first, let me enjoy myself a bit!” The sound of clothes tearing and the man’s disgusting touch terrified me. Jack, pick up the phone quickly! Please pick up! When Chris’s hand reached my pants, the phone was finally answered. “Jack, save me!” I cried out shakily. But the voice that came through the phone was Jack’s cold and mocking tone. “What? You were pretending to be retarded earlier, and now you’re putting on an act of being kidnapped?” “Then just go die!” “It’s not like that, I really…” The busy tone that came through the phone cut off my screams. “Bitch, you think Jack Thompson will come save you? You’re dreaming.” “Today is Miss Harris’s birthday. He’s busy accompanying Miss Harris. How could he come save you, the daughter of a murderer!” Right, I remembered now. Jack Thompson hates me. How could he possibly come to save me? After all, my dad killed his mom.
When I was 8, my family went bankrupt, and my dad became addicted to alcohol and gambling. When he was drunk or lost money, he would beat my mom and me. My mom endured it for three years before finally running away on a stormy night. My dad took out all his anger on me. That’s when Jack Thompson appeared. He was a year younger than me but saved me from my dad’s hands. He said, “You girls are always crying. Don’t cry anymore. I’ll protect you from now on.” A promise worth its weight in gold! He protected me for a full five years, breaking three ribs for me, and my dad went to jail because of it. Jack brought me back to the Thompson family. He told his parents, “This is the wife I’m going to marry in the future. You better take good care of her, or I won’t take care of you in your old age!” That earned him a good beating from Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Thompson would make me lots of delicious food. I especially loved the strawberry cake she made. I loved listening to Mr. Thompson tell me history stories the most. The days at the Thompson house were my happiest times. On my 23rd birthday, Jack coaxed me into getting our marriage license. Mrs. Thompson was as happy as a child and said she wanted to prepare a grand wedding for me. I was spoiled and refused her kindness, even persuading her to go on a trip with me, leaving Jack behind. If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t have encountered my dad, and Mrs. Thompson wouldn’t have died protecting me. My dad was the direct murderer of her death, and I was an accomplice. Jack hating me was justified.
I was covered in blood, stumbling back home at 7 AM. Jack had just put freshly steamed buns in front of Emily. Seeing me, Emily covered her mouth and shouted, “Oh my God, Rachel, where are your clothes? Why are you wearing a man’s clothes?” “Rachel, you’re too much. You were out all night, and Jack was so worried he couldn’t sleep.” Indeed, he hadn’t slept. Last night, Emily’s skin hunger syndrome flared up, and Jack had stayed up all night with her. Now, Emily’s Instagram still had a picture of them holding hands tightly, with the caption: “The best medicine to cure illness is the company of your loved one all night long!!” “Heh… Rachel, how much fake blood did you use this time?” Emily was referring to the time I had an episode and mistook her for my dad, crying on the phone for Jack to come save me and Mrs. Thompson. But when Jack rushed back, what he saw was me covered in fake blood. That was the first time Jack laid hands on me. He gripped my neck, “Rachel Moore, you’d use this excuse to compete with Emily for attention.” “Why couldn’t it have been you who died back then?!” … “Jack, if I told you I was almost raped last night, would you believe me?” I looked into Jack’s eyes and asked. Jack sneered, “Rachel Moore, your acting skills put even me, an award-winning actor, to shame!” “If you had listened to me back then and pursued a career in entertainment, you’d be the one winning Best Actress awards.” I couldn’t bear to hear his sarcasm anymore and shouted, “I’m sick, Jack! It’s because I’m sick!” “Sick? What illness? Depression or dementia?” Seeing the disdain on his face, my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to utter a single syllable. In the past, Jack would take every word I said seriously, but now he wouldn’t believe even half a word. “What rape? What illness? What? Are you trying to find a noble excuse for your promiscuous behavior?” “If I had known you were such a slutty woman, I would never have saved you, no matter what.” He violently threw a phone at my forehead. Blood covered my eyes, but I didn’t dare close them. I stared wide-eyed at the video playing on the phone. In the video, I was sprawled on top of Chris Sanders with disheveled clothes, whispering intimately in his ear. Although the video had no sound, anyone could tell from Chris’s smile that what I was saying must have been lewd words. I instantly understood everything. Chris was Emily’s man. Emily not only wanted to destroy me but also wanted Jack to despise me even more. It was truly killing two birds with one stone. Before, for Jack’s sake, I had always tolerated Emily, but now I didn’t want to anymore. I suddenly lunged at Emily, but she was prepared. She grabbed a fruit knife from the dining table and came at me. The fruit knife sliced across my palm, and blood splattered on the white floor, like blooming red flowers. But in Jack’s eyes, all he saw was Emily falling to the ground. His panicked gaze was exactly like when Mrs. Thompson had the accident. At that moment, I finally understood that Jack had no feelings for me other than hatred. As Jack carried Emily away, he said if anything happened to her, he would make me regret being alive. But Jack, I had long since regretted it.
At noon, I received a phone call. “Hello, Miss Moore. This is Sam Stewart. Have you considered what I told you this morning?” Last night, I had deliberately submitted to Chris, knocked him out when he wasn’t paying attention, and escaped. If I hadn’t met Sam, I probably wouldn’t have made it home that night. He lent me his coat and sent me back. He’s a lifestyle blogger looking for filming material. When he learned I was an Alzheimer’s patient, he wanted me to be his subject. To record the real life of an Alzheimer’s patient and call on young people to start taking care of their health early. “I’m willing to be your subject,” I said. I still had some use. That’s good. “But don’t release the video for now.” Jack was about to start filming a new movie. I didn’t want to affect him. Sam was quick; in less than an hour, he came to install cameras. Hidden cameras inside, and he would follow me outside. Looking at the empty villa, he asked, “Miss Moore, do you live alone in such a big house?” I nodded. Jack had moved in with his father to the Harris family three years ago. “Then where’s your partner?” “Divorced.” Actually, I lied to him. I had proposed divorce a month after Mrs. Thompson’s accident, but Jack didn’t agree at that time. He hated me but couldn’t bear to let me go. Back then, he would often crawl into my bed in the middle of the night, hugging me from behind and repeatedly asking, “Rachel, what should we do?” I had no answer, I could only silently cry.
I was becoming lucid less and less often. I didn’t know what I did when I was out of it, but every time I woke up, I was greeted by a mess. Like now, what I saw was Mr. Thompson’s angry gaze and the gloating looks of Emily and her mother. “Rachel Moore, not only did you kill Jack’s mother, but you’re also celebrating your birthday on her death anniversary. Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?” “You won’t die well, you’ll definitely face retribution.” This was the Thompson family’s old house. Looking at the festive decorations all over the house and the three-tiered cake on the table, I felt like I had fallen into an ice pit. Rachel Moore, that was Mrs. Thompson, the Mrs. Thompson who saved your life. What have you done? Rachel Moore, you really deserve to die. “Mr. Thompson, I’m sorry, I…” “I don’t want your apology. Get out of my house right now!” Seeing Mr. Thompson about to faint, I didn’t dare stay any longer. I bowed deeply to Mr. Thompson. “I’m sorry.” When I opened the door, I saw an furious Jack. “You wanted to celebrate your birthday? Then let me give you a proper celebration.” He took me to a bar’s private room and ordered a lot of alcohol. “It’s your birthday, so we must drink. Come on, have a glass.” Before I could move, he grabbed a bottle with one hand and pinched my jaw with the other, forcing the liquor down my throat. I don’t know how many bottles I was forced to drink, I just felt my stomach burning and aching. Finally, he even called four or five male models for me. He said, “These are my birthday gifts to you. Do you like them?” “Your task today is to please her well.” No matter how Jack punished me, I would accept it, but he chose to humiliate me in this way. But I didn’t even have the strength to struggle. I could only watch as he left holding Emily’s hand. “Be good, don’t look. It will dirty your eyes.” Dirty? Jack, so this is how worthless I’ve become in your heart. Before I lost consciousness, I dialed Sam’s number.
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