The panic of falling made me instinctively cling to the person next to me.

She flipped me over and pinned me down, her face twisted with malice. "He will definitely choose me, and you, you should die here!"

No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't break free from her hold. I ended up crashing heavily to the ground.

Priscilla Bates smiled triumphantly. "From this height, you won't die. So, who do you think he'll save?"

All I could hear was the wind; her words were lost to me.

When my body slammed into the ground, the dislocation of my bones left me speechless. Blood blurred my vision.

A familiar figure rushed over urgently. "You have to hold on!"

Though he didn't call my name, I summoned all my strength to grab his shirt. "Floyd Wilkinson, it hurts. It hurts so much, I think I'll die."

The words I couldn't speak were cast aside by his indifference.

It seemed like he was still talking, but his voice grew fainter to me.

"Prissy looks lively, but she's really hurt badly. The ambulance will be here soon. Hang in there..."

Floyd Wilkinson decisively picked up Priscilla Bates and walked away with long strides.

"My condition isn't as serious as Joan's. You should worry about her," Priscilla Bates said, still pretending to be the good person.

But their entangled silhouettes gradually disappeared from view.

I don't know how long it took for the ambulance to arrive. The paramedics hustled to get me on it, attaching various instruments—they were trying to save me.

All I could feel was cold. Every bit of warmth was stripped away from me; I couldn't even feel the heat from those around me.

As I was being wheeled into the operating room, I caught sight of them.

Priscilla Bates, dressed in a skirt, nestled in Floyd Wilkinson's broad arms, muttering guiltily.

Maybe it was my life flashing before my eyes, but I clearly heard their conversation.

"I told you, Joan's injuries are more serious. What do we do now?"

"Even if she dies, she's no match for you. If it weren't for her clinging to me, we'd have been together long ago. You wouldn't have had to endure so much, right?"

Floyd Wilkinson's voice carried a softness I hadn't heard in a long time.

His attitude towards me had grown colder. I'd thought about resolving our differences, but I hadn't expected he wanted to break up.

If you'd told me earlier, I would have agreed. Why treat me this way?

We're all adults; no one is so dependent on another that they can't survive.

Why treat me this way?