My mom received another call from the police. They said that the case was closed, and the agency was shut down.
They had already given out orders, and the person in charge of the agency would soon be in custody.
They asked her to go to the agency to collect my things. After all, it was something to remember me by.
The three of them went there together.
In the dormitory, other people's things had been taken away by their families.
Only my bed in the corner was still the same as it was more than ten days ago.
There were scattered bloodstains on the bed sheet.
My mom trembled as she slowly tidied it up, her face ghastly pale.
When she saw the line of words on the wall, she knelt down by the bed, crying non–stop.
Her tears fell onto the bed where I used to lie.
She cried…
I had looked forward to seeing that countless times, but when I saw that at this moment, I felt that it was no longer important.
It was all over.
I scratched those words using my own fingernails.
"It hurts. It hurts so much that I feel like I'm dying. "I hate every one of you.
"Let me die. I don't wanna be alive for another second. "
I scratched those words every time I was beaten miserably.
When packing my things, my mom saw a yellowed bracelet under the bed.
She gave it to me when I was twelve, and there were dried blood stains on it.
I hid it under the bed because I was afraid it would be broken.
My mom held it and finally cried on the bed.
"I'm… sorry. I didn't know it was so terrifying here.
"I'm sorry…"
At this moment, a boy walked in. I remembered him.
He was also here to be reformed, and he tried to escape once. He was beaten for several hours after being caught, and now he still limped when he walked.
"I heard that Violet…"
He couldn't say another word anymore.
He gave my mom a video and said, "I don't dare to go to the police station. I'm afraid of retaliation. Give the video to the police. It will help with Violet's case. "