The cold metal pierced her body, her hands clung to the rusty edge of the bed, her nails buckled into the rust, and the tender flesh of her fingertips rubbed hard, and the pain reached her heart.

However, she didn't frown, as if the pain didn't exist.

Being blindfolded, at this moment, there is darkness in front of me, I can't see anything, it just so happens that I don't want to see everything I am going through.

Feeling the metal withdraw slightly, the stinging pain just now was not gone, and soon pierced again, she gritted her teeth, and once again wore the flesh of her fingertips.

"You owe me everything. ”

"Will you regret it?"

"You'll regret it!"

“...... I'm in so much pain. ”

“...... Grace ......"

She cried out in her heart, but she couldn't pronounce the man's name, and as the metal stabbed in and out, and pulled out, and stabbed again, she preferred to believe that she had never met the man, and that she did not remember his name, and she pronounced her hatred for him into a spell.

The resentment in her heart supported what little consciousness she had left, and when the last thorn was gone, her spell came to an abrupt halt, and her consciousness eventually drifted and she fainted.

When I woke up again, it was noon the next day.

She moved her fingers, and the worn fingertips were put with a band-aid, and ten fingers were not spared.

When her eyes adjusted to the light and opened them completely, the liquid dripping quickly from the bottle made her realize that she had returned to the villa she had moved in half a month ago.

"Are you awake?" a female voice that was not familiar sounded.

She wanted to open her mouth, but her voice was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't make anything.

A pair of slightly rough hands passed the water to her mouth, carefully inserted a straw, she moved her body twice, turned slightly sideways, opened her dry lips, and took a large sip.

When the water soaked her throat, she could finally make a sound.

"Can I get out?"

Her question made the middle-aged woman who was serving her pause with the hand holding the water glass, and then the middle-aged woman's face was expressionless, and her dark face showed a hint of wariness.

"I called and asked. With that, he walked out of the room and locked the door.

Li Miran looked at the room where she had lived for half a month, and there was nothing in it that was her own, not even underwear.

She moved the corners of her mouth self-deprecatingly, a trace of blood flowing from her chapped lips, wiped it away gently, and sat up on her own.

"After dropping this bottle, you're good to go. The middle-aged woman walked in and brought the news she wanted, "The car is already downstairs, you need to be blindfolded before you go out of the room." ”

She nodded, she knew it. The people here don't owe her, and she doesn't hate them.

The only hatred is that person, the man who made her lost.

......

The mountain road was rugged, and the cool sea breeze hit her face through the car window, bringing a salty and wet taste, even though she couldn't see it at the moment, she could imagine the clear sky outside, the blue sky and clear water she liked, as far as the eye could see.

She licked her chapped lips with her tongue, full of saltiness and bitterness, inconsistent with Southern California, not from Sicily, and possibly, even more so from the Maldives. Because there is love, there is something that has been experienced together, and there is what she has looked forward to, pure as sea water.

How dirty the sea must have been, as it had just been!

It is said that it is the third person who is not loved. In the past, she scoffed at this, how irresponsible the person who said this should be, but now when she thinks of this sentence, she can only laugh.

From the age of 16 to 22, six years, all the stories, the resentment, were sprinkled on this filthy sea by her hand stretched out of the window.

She believed that the tide ebbed and flowed, swept them away, and went to the place she couldn't see, but where she should go.