NovelEnglishChapter 145 Ever since that last harrowing hypnosis session-when the nightmare had felt too real-Raymond hadn't set foot in Dr. Yates's office for weeks.
But the dream haunted him, gnawing at his thoughts, refusing to let him rest. Today, unable to shake the unease, Raymond finally returned, desperate to prove to himself that it had only been a dream.
He settled onto the reclined leather chair, letting his mind blur and drift. As the world faded, awareness returned -this time, inside a dilapidated apartment block.
He found himself in a grimy stairwell, the banister thick with dust, yellowing walls cracked and peeling, every surface stained and neglected. The corridor was choked with broken-down cardboard boxes and empty bottles, the detritus of lives long unkempt.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtRaymond had grown up in privilege, shuttled between exclusive clubs and pristine mansions. He'd never set foot in a place like this, and the squalor made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.
Suddenly, a door behind him slammed open. The clang of metal against wall echoed through the hallway.
A gruff, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. His skin was weathered and ruddy, a threadbare winter coat hanging from his shoulders, and a half-empty bottle dangled from his hand. He jabbed a finger at a little girl-no more than two or three-his words slurred and venomous, spittle flying.
"Useless brat! All you do is eat. Get out! If you can't bring back any money today, don't bother coming back-just freeze out there and die for all I care!" It was winter, or close enough; the girl wore a faded, patchwork parka so thin it barely held any stuffing. Her back was to Raymond, her tiny frswamped in the coat.
She looked up at the man, craning her neck with effort. "I'm hungry." Her voice was barely a whisper, frail as a kitten's mew.
The man scowled, crouched down, and jabbed her forehead with a thick finger. "Hungry? Good-starve, then." He shoved her, and she toppled to the dirty floor.
He glared down from above, his eyes bulging with rage. "If you don't bring hmoney-if you letand my boy go hungry-I'll beat you to death, you hear me?" The girl pushed herself upright, small hands pressed to her stomach. She stared up at him, unblinking, the squiet defiance in her eyes. "I'm hungry." "You little wretch-can't you understand plain English?" he snarled. "I'll beat you senseless!" At that, the girl bolted for the stairs.
She was so tiny, barely tall enough to reach a dining table. She'd barely run a few steps before the man hurled the bottle after her. It shattered at her feet, glass and booze splattering across the floor.
She didn't even have shoes, and as she ran, shards of glass pierced her bare feet.
The man lumbered after her, but the girl only flinched and kept going, as if she couldn't feel the pain. She stumbled down the stairs-and then, suddenly, she slipped, tumbling hard at the landing, where she lay crumpled and motionless.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmThis time, Raymond saw her face.
"Citrine." His voice trembled as he whispered her name.
Her eyes so calm, so empty-held the sdistant, hopeless book as the woman he knew today.
"Citrine, it's me. I'm your father." Raymond's chest ached, a dull, o'm crushing pain. He rushed to her, V desperate to e desperate to help, but his hand passed straight through her body-like mist. "Citrine!" His voice broke with helpless agony. He watched the child, his heart twisting.
She sat there with wild, matted hair, her skin ghostly pale, face sunken with hunger. Her hands red and swollen with chilblains, trembled in the cold. She couldn't hear him-couldn't see him. How could she be so thin? Raymond's eyes burned, stinging with tears.
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