I continued to struggle, praying that Rachel wouldn’t leave, that she wouldn’t give Michael the
chance to
take me away.
I was terrified….
I was terrified that he would actually take me to see Peter.
I was terrified of forgetting Steven.
“The patient is very weak. The child has been temporarily saved, but we need to observe her for a
while. Meanwhile, she cannot endure any more stress,” the doctor exined to Michael before
leaving.
“Thank you… Thank you, doctor.”
“I’m only doing my job.”
“How’s Stephie doing?”
Just when I thought I might wake up soon, I suddenly heard the voice of a middle–aged man.
It was Peter.
My nerves immediately tightened.
“Stephie hasn’t woken up yet, but the child has been saved.” Michael let out a sigh of relief.
“You need to get those two women arguing over there to leave and then take Stephie away.” Peter
sounded somewhat displeased.
I panicked and wanted to open my eyes. I didn’t want him to take me away!
I didn’t know if my memory loss was rted to Peter, but since he was a psychiatrist, I couldn’t trust
him.
I even found him frightening.
“Mr. Peter, will it work?” Michael whispered.
“Don’t worry. It will work.” Peter sounded confidently.
The more confident he sounded, the more frightened I became.
Memories began to slowly resurface.
I remembered my parents sending me to the mental hospital, where I met Peter.
My first impression of him was that he was terrifying.
His smile was too gentle. He called my name and said, “Stephie,e with me.”
He took my hand and led me down a long corridor. The wards were filled with patients wearing
hospital gowns. I looked at them and then turned to see my crying parents standing at the end of
the hallway.
They were desperate for me to be a normal, likable child.
“Stephie, here are two oranges. If I want one will you give it to me?” He took me to the therapy room
to begin my assessment tests. RêAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only
I looked at him indifferently, as if he were asking a foolish question I didn’t want to answer.
“Stephie, if you made a friend and she envied your two oranges and tried to steal them when you
weren’t looking, how would you handle the situation?”
“Cut off her hands.”
I sounded cold in my memory, unlike that of a child my age.
My answer stunned the nurse standing nearby. She couldn’t believe it and asked Peter, “Is she
really just five years old?”
They observed me for a while and even let me interact with other children. They allowed older,
stronger children to bully me and watched me like I was an experiment.
In the end, without determining the cause of my condition, Peter diagnosed me with severe
emotional and cognitive disorders.
I watched him through the ss window. Like an executioner, his voice chilling as he said, “Apply
for transcranial maic stimtionbined with hypnotherapy for her. If the effect is not
significant, then apply for electroconvulsive therapy.”
“Dr. Jones, she’s just a child.”
Peter took a sharp breath. “Have you ever seen teenage boys intimidated by a five–year–old girl?”
As my memories slowly cleared, I became even more frightened.
Peter’s so–called treatment for me involved hypnosis and physical stimtion.
No wonder I suffered memory loss.
If Michael handed me over to Peter, there was a high probability that I would forget everything again
and
everything rted to Steven.
*Stephie did forget a lot of things after her car ident. I was the one who didn’t cherish her.”
Michael
pretended to act guilty.
The truth was he wanted me to lose my memory to keep me trapped.
I struggled in fear. I didn’t want to forget again, to repeat the cycle, to be trapped by Michael’s
emotions, without being able to fight back!
“Steven…”
“Steve, save me…” I struggled desperately and cried out.
Steven, you had toe and save me!