Chapter 668 A Complete Psychopath
In the video, Zachary lay face down on the bed, his bare back fully exposed to the camera.
From his shoulder blades to his lower back, there wasn't a single patch of uninjured skin. It was red, swollen, and still bleeding.
The white bedsheets beneath him were stained with fresh blood, even splattering some distance away.
Winona finally understood how he got all those injuries.
Zachary lay on the bed, his eyes half-closed and motionless. If he weren't right there in front of her, Winona might have thought he was dead.
The man who had been beating him threw the bloodied cane to the ground and left, swinging his arms.
Winona let out the breath she had been holding, though her heart still ached unbearably. Without the gruesome scene in front of her, she could at least breathe normally again.
But just as she began to relax, another person entered the room. Zachary on the bed didn't react at all, possibly unconscious.
This time, it was a middle-aged man. Unlike the previous brute, this man had a gentle demeanor, as if he was openly declaring himself a good person.
He took out some medicine to treat Zachary's wounds, using alcohol. Winona watched closely as the liquid sprayed onto Zachary's back, causing his muscles to twitch uncontrollably. His jaw clenched, and the veins in his neck bulged.
The man seemed oblivious to Zachary's pain, continuing his work until Zachary's entire back was covered in alcohol. Then he reached for some gauze.
"Why do you do this to yourself? It's just a woman. If you and she are truly meant to be, you'll meet again, even if it's under different circumstances."
Zachary was drenched in cold sweat, his face as pale as the sheets beneath him. He didn't speak, either unwilling or too weak to respond.
Winona guessed it was the latter. She knew how much a small cut stung when treated with alcohol, let alone the extensive wounds on his back.
The man took out a metronome from his medical kit. At first, Winona didn't understand its purpose, but when it started to swing back and forth, she realized it was for hypnosis.
She had seen it in movies, though never in real life.
After asking a few simple questions, the psychologist finally got to the crucial one. "Zachary, what's the name of the person you like?"
"Winona."
The psychologist corrected him, "No, the person you like is named Aria Clark, an intern analyst with the archaeology team."
His voice was low and suggestive, "Zachary, what's the name of the person you like?"
Zachary's lips moved, his brows furrowed, and his fingers gripped the sheets tightly. He was in agony, cold sweat pouring from his forehead. His words came out in broken fragments, "Her name is... Ar..."
Winona couldn't help but clench her fists. Even though she knew the outcome, she desperately hoped he would admit it, admit that the person he liked was someone else.
She didn't understand how a few suggestive words and a swinging metronome could have such a powerful effect, but she could see that Zachary was struggling.
Despite her silent pleas, Zachary remained resolute, "Her name is Winona, not Aria. The person I like could never have such an awful name."
The psychologist seemed exasperated, leaving without packing up his things. At the door, he paused and said to someone outside, "It's not working. We'll have to try again with a better name next time."
If the physical torture was bad, the psychological attacks were even worse. They cut deep without drawing blood, leaving her feeling utterly broken.
"Winona, don't cry. It's all in the past now. I'm okay," Zachary had somehow moved in front of her. He wanted to hug her, but his hands were tied. He could only awkwardly nudge her leg with his shoulder, trying to comfort her, "You've seen it. Those wounds have healed."
Winona looked down.
Zachary was a mess, his black suit covered in dust, his face smudged.
In her memory, he had always been proud and dignified. Seeing him like this, and remembering how he had clung to her name even while lying on that bed, nearly dead, made her sob uncontrollably, "Why are you so stubborn? What would it have mattered if you admitted it?"
"In that situation, if I let my guard down, I would have followed their lead," he explained. "It wasn't just about admitting a name. If I forgot you and got engaged to someone else, you wouldn't want me anymore."
He was certain of his feelings for Winona, but he wasn't confident about her feelings for him. So, faced with their repeated attempts at hypnosis, he had only one thought. if he got entangled with another woman, Winona would definitely leave him. Not only leave him, but despise him.
The mere possibility terrified him.
Winona shook her head, her tears falling onto Zachary's face, cool and wet, "I wouldn't."
He nudged her leg again, "Winona, don't cry. It's all over now."
Winona cried for a while before calming down. The two men had already left. She sniffled and got to the point, "Do you think the person behind all this is a psychopath? Going to such lengths to kidnap us, never showing their face, just sending people in to film our miserable state. The worse we are, the more it satisfies their twisted desires?"
"First, they wanted Maeve to push me into the pool. Then, they staged a kidnapping. I can't figure out what they want."
Zachary's face darkened, "Maeve tried to push you into the pool?"
"Yes."
He didn't say anything, but his expression grew even darker. He had a hunch about what was going on.
Winona was right about one thing. the person behind this was a complete psychopath.
The man they called a psychopath was currently dressed as an orderly, sitting by Lydia's hospital bed, peeling an apple.
His fingers were long and slender, though wrinkled with age, still graceful. He quickly finished peeling the apple, carefully cutting it into small pieces and placing them on a plate. He looked up at the sleeping woman on the bed.
He studied her face intently, then nodded in satisfaction. She was still the same charming girl from back then.
He didn't wake her, knowing that once she woke up, she wouldn't be this peaceful anymore.
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