"Stop your nonsense, Ella isn't pregnant!" The assistant suddenly became anxious.
"If she's not pregnant, why did she run when she saw reporters?"
"How do you explain the constant complaints of morning sickness from our film crew staff who see her on set?"
"Miss Ella, if you think you've been wronged, how about clearing it up for us?"
"..."
In Ella's ears, a flurry of questions drown her.
She held her head in her hands and agonizingly dropped to a squat.
The images she was suppressing, stirred to life with repeated, pointed questions from reporters involving pregnancy.
A pitch-black night.
A unknown man.
An agonizing pain.
Her pleas for help which she couldn't voice out...
All of these felt like a nightmare, replaying bit by bit before her eyes.
"Ah--" Ella clutched at her own hair, screaming out in pain.
"Don't touch me…"
"I'm not pregnant…"
"I'm not!"
At her breaking point, her frail body suddenly was enveloped within a broad chest.
