Chapter 139 Debbie, A Complete Madwoman.
With just one glance, Patricia knew that Debbie was not insane. Her act of feigned madness downstairs was just that—an act. But as to why Debbie was pretending, Patricia couldn't yet fathom.
"What do you want?" Patricia asked, stepping back subtly, her hand inching towards the desk lamp.
Debbie advanced, her eyes bloodshot, her gaze scattered like a wild beast teetering on the brink of madness.
"Why?" Patricia's brow furrowed. "Why what?"
"Why didn't you save me?" Debbie pressed, getting closer.
Patricia scoffed, "Save you?"
Tears swirled in Debbie's reddened eyes. "You watched those men insult me, why didn't you save me?"
"I was barely able to save myself, how could I save you?"
Debbie was irrational. "We're sisters. Shouldn't you have protected me to the death?"
Patricia laughed at the absurdity.
"Protect you to the death? Who was it that got me kidnapped by Madam Thomas? And who was responsible for your own plight? Have you forgotten all the terrible things you've done to me? Why should I risk my life for you? Not cheering them on was the biggest mercy I could muster."
Debbie's face twisted grotesquely.
She was like a madwoman, relentless. "When Martin saved you, why didn't you make him save me too?"
Patricia sneered. "What right did I have to ask him to save you? He offended Madam Thomas for my sake, and I'm already riddled with guilt. Why should I owe him further, all for your sake?"
Debbie's voice was shrill with stubbornness. "Bullshit, you did it on purpose... You intentionally didn't let him save me, you wanted him to watch me get despoiled by other men, to see me fall into the mire..."
Seeing Debbie's endless rant, Patricia turned to continue packing her suitcase.
As she turned, Debbie's mouth twisted into a sinister grin, her expression slowly becoming eerie.
A chill ran down Patricia's spine, and her instincts screamed danger. She whirled around just in time to see Debbie lunging at her. Startled, Patricia realized too late as Debbie's hands were already choking her.
"It's all your fault, you wretch! If not for you, Martin wouldn't have abandoned me, I wouldn't have provoked Jocelyn, and I wouldn't have ended up disgraced and disfigured! I'm going to kill you today, and if I'm going to die, I'm taking you with me."
Debbie screamed, her eyes aflame with corrosive hatred.
Patricia had anticipated her intent. The moment Debbie's hands closed around her neck, Patricia grabbed the desk lamp and smashed it against Debbie's forehead.
With a "thud,"
Debbie, caught off guard, stumbled back, hands releasing their grip.
Patricia shoved her away and dashed for the door, desperate to escape.
But just as her hand touched the doorknob, her hair was yanked back violently.
"You think you can escape after ruining me? From the moment you stepped into the Watson family's home, you were never leaving. I'll kill you first, then your little bastard child. If I can't be happy, none of you will. We might as well die together."
Debbie had lost all sanity.
Regardless of the consequences, she was determined to see Patricia dead.
If Martin were to blame, so be it.
After all, with her ghastly appearance, she was as good as dead anyway.
Pain shot through Patricia's scalp as she fell backward to the floor.
Debbie tried to pounce on her.
But Patricia was no pushover. As Debbie approached, Patricia kicked her squarely in the stomach, sending her sprawling.
Debbie, seemingly impervious to pain, scrambled up and lunged at Patricia again.
Her eyes rolled back, showing mostly the whites.
Blood trailed down her forehead, snaking across her face, tinting the sockets red, like a bloodthirsty demon.
Patricia had to revise her earlier assumption.
Debbie had indeed gone mad.
A complete and utter lunatic.
Realizing this, Patricia, as Debbie pounced like a ravenous wolf, made a preemptive strike, darting behind the desk and grabbing a chair to smash against Debbie.
Debbie, undeterred, let the chair hit her, momentarily stunned.
Patricia seized the moment to rush to the door, unlocking the small lock, only to find the door had been locked from the outside with a key.
Her heart sank.
It seemed the Watson family had lured her here with premeditation, to let Debbie exact her revenge.
Should anything happen to her, Debbie could escape legal punishment with the excuse of insanity.
Patricia banged on the door in despair. "Open up, let me out... Gavin, Manda... hurry up and let me out..."
Debbie, like a zombie, turned slowly, her neck creaking mechanically, and pulled a retractable fruit knife from her pocket.
With a click, the sharp blade sprang out.
She approached Patricia with a gruesome smile.
"Run, why don't you? Did you really think you were the only one with a key to this room? This is the Watson family home. Getting another key is easy. Today, I'll make you pay for all the pain you've caused me. I'll slash your face, strip you naked, and throw your corpse in the town square for all to see."
The vile words from the internet were etched in her mind.
Every sentence, every word, she wanted Patricia to experience.
As the cold glint of the blade approached, Patricia's heart raced. In a moment of panic, she reached for her phone to dial 911.
But Debbie was too fast. Patricia had no time to unlock her phone or dial.
All she could do was hit the emergency call button.
Unfortunately, before she could speak, Debbie pounced, and as Patricia dodged, her phone slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.
She didn't know if the call had gone through, but clinging to a last hope, she shouted her address into the phone, "Come quickly, there's a madwoman here trying to kill someone."
Debbie, seizing the moment of distraction, lunged with the knife.
Patricia grabbed the chair, blocking the knife, and kicked Debbie hard in the stomach.
Debbie stumbled back, and Patricia, discarding the chair, swung the lamp at Debbie's wrist. Pain forced Debbie's grip to loosen, and the knife clattered to the floor.
Before Patricia could catch her breath, Debbie was on her feet again, snatching the fallen knife.
Patricia retreated, tripping over the desk leg and tumbling to the floor.
Debbie pounced, knife raised.
Patricia clasped Debbie's wrist with both hands, fighting to keep the blade at bay.
Their struggle was fierce, faces flushed, veins bulging with exertion.
Debbie, disfigured and bloody, looked like a specter from the deepest pits of hell.
Patricia, with her fair complexion, looked as if she had been painted with a rosy hue, adding a touch of color to the grim scene.
Envy twisted in Debbie's heart as she looked at Patricia's pretty face. She wanted to ruin it, to make her as grotesque as herself.
Fueled by hate and a death wish, Debbie's strength surged as if infused by a dark power.
Patricia felt her strength waning, watching the knife edge inch closer, so close it was nearly upon her nose—
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
