“Frances, what are you doing, let go of me!”
I yank my hand out with all my might but in vain, even though my hands chafe.
I don’t know what he wants to do. As time passes, his silence makes me feel scared.
I am seeking revenge on him but I find I’m totally not ready for it when he abruptly appears in front of
me. I’m stuck and lost at this moment.
He takes me out of the bar and from a far distance away, I see that familiar Maybach.
I’m so terrified that I lean over and bite hard on his arm.
It is literally a hard bite.
However, Frances doesn’t stop his steps and instead he walks even faster.
I loosen my mouth and look at the dental print on his shirt, a faint trace of blood seeping out.
It looks hurt very much, but he has no response at all. Does he lose his feelings?
When he gets to the car, he pushes me into the back seat, and then he follows me in, with the door
locked.
There’s plenty of room in the car but I feel depressed with him there.
It’s useless to be panic now that I’ve been in his car.
I simply sit there and ask coldly. “What do you want to do?”
“Jane, where have you been these days?”
He looks at me with the dim light in the car. There seems to be a sparkle in his eyes.
I sneer and turn to him, say nastily, “Why do you ask me? Is it fun?”
He sent his men to Prague to kill my child, and now he asks me where I have been without any
shame? Does he really think I’m a fool?
“What do you mean?” he asks me with a deep voice, with eyebrows furrowed.
“Nothing. Then let me go if you’re finished. We definitely will meet again sometime, but of course, I
won’t make it easy for you then.”
I thought I only have hatred for him, but when I see him again I find that there is irresistible love mixed
in hatred. My heart races uncontrollably in sight of him.
I force myself to regain senses by thinking over and over again about the untimely death of my child.
“You’ve already made it hard for me.”
He says quietly.
I don’t know if it is my illusion, but there is a touch of sadness in his words.
My heart jolts wildly with his words.
What should I do? Why I have no way to completely resent him even he did me such terrible and cruel
thing?
“You have a hard time?” I laugh ironically, with the tears dropping from eyes.
He’s indulging in a gay life and debauchery, and how could he say he’s suffering without shame? What
about me?
Is my miserable life good after losing my child?
“Jane, tell me, why did you leave me? Am I not good enough to you? Or there is someone else in your
heart?” he suddenly asks me.
None of what he says is the reason I left him.
He doesn’t understand me, nor did I to him.
“Whoever lives in my heart, it will never be you. Frances, I hate you, since the first day I met you. And
this hatred never dies.”
I say to him, with a low voice.
These words are for him but also a warn for myself.
He’s indulging in a gay life and debauchery, and how could he say he’s suffering without shame? What
about me?
Is my miserable life good after losing my child?
“Jane, tell me, why did you leave me? Am | not good enough to you? Or there is someone else in your
heart?” he suddenly asks me.
None of what he says is the reason | left him.
He doesn’t understand me, nor did | to him.
“Whoever lives in my heart, it will never be you. Frances, | hate you, since the first day | met you. And
this hatred never dies.”
| say to him, with a low voice.
These words are for him but also a warn for myself.
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