Bloodbath for the Betrayed

A cold blade pressed against my wrist. I stared at the warm water spreading slowly in the bathtub, my mind flooded with the image of my parents falling from the high-rise. Five years have passed, and that image haunts me day and night, suffocating me. Just as the blade was about to cut through my skin, my phone buzzed suddenly with a notification—its headline glaring: Venus Star Award recipient for Best Actress Linda James's drunken interview, exposing the secret to her rise. Linda James, my once most trusted best friend, now a dazzling international star. On a whim, I clicked on the video; there she was, makeup flawless, but with the wild madness of someone drunk. "Back then, Yara Hill, that fool, actually believed I genuinely cared for her." "I purposely drugged her, sent her to the director's bed, then sent the photos to Finn Lincoln." "Who told her to stand in my way? Who told her she was better than me at everything?" "Too bad her parents were so fragile—they just jumped off the building. But thanks to them, Yara completely collapsed, and I was able to smoothly end up with Finn and grab all those resources." Every single word was like a poisoned blade, stabbing deeply into my heart. So, none of it was an accident. I was expelled, vilified by the entire internet, abandoned by the whole world; my parents died unjustly—all of this tragedy was her carefully crafted scheme. The phone slipped from my hand, fell into the warm water, and the screen went black instantly. If I die like this, it would be far too easy for them. Linda climbed over my parents' corpses to rise, basking in the flowers and applause; Finn hurt me without any reason, then turned around and ran off with my enemy. What they owe me, what they owe my parents—I will take it all back, piece by piece, with interest. Finn Lincoln, the man I once loved deeply, is also one of the people who hurt me the most. He has always felt guilty toward me, and that is my greatest weapon. I stood and walked to the desk, pulled out a long-forgotten bottle of pills, poured out a dozen sleeping pills, and swallowed them with the cold water on the desk. Before my consciousness blurred, I used the last bit of strength to send Finn a message: "Finn, I'm so tired. I wish you and Linda happiness." Then, I threw my phone to the floor and slowly sank onto the sofa. I was sure he would come, sure his guilt would drive him to find me. In a haze, I thought I heard frantic knocking, immediately followed by the crashing sound of a door being broken down. When I opened my eyes again, the hospital's sterile white ceiling came into view, along with Finn, haggard and worn out, standing vigil beside the bed. When he saw I was awake, his eyes filled instantly with wild joy and crushing guilt. "Yara, you're awake! Thank God, you're finally awake!" He reached out to touch my cheek, but I instinctively turned my head away. His hand froze mid-air, guilt deepening in his eyes. "Yara, I'm sorry, it's all my fault." He lowered his head, his voice hoarse, "I shouldn't have trusted Linda, shouldn't have hurt you, and most of all... shouldn't have let you bear so much alone." I stared at his hypocritical face, my heart filled only with endless disgust. But I knew this wasn't the moment to tear us apart. I blinked gently, tears sliding down the corners of my eyes. "Finn... it hurts so much." That admission of weakness completely broke down Finn's psychological defenses. He held my hand, apologizing repeatedly, "I'm sorry, Yara, it's my fault. I promise I'll make it up to you properly and never let you suffer even a single grievance again."