Reborn in the Enemy's Embrace

"What... have you done?" I asked. My heart ached when I saw Dexter so disoriented while covered in blood. I tried to walk over to him.

His skin was a lifeless pale white that starkly contrasted with the dark red of the blood.

I felt suffocated as an inexplicable panic washed over me.

"Please, don’t come near me," Dexter pleaded, seemingly afraid of me seeing him in this state.

He frantically called out for Sophia as if he were afraid of losing her.

"Please don’t look at me..." Suddenly, he dashed back into the room like a madman and locked himself in.

I knocked on the door, but he wouldn’t open it.

There were still remnants of his bloody footprints on the floor.

Since my rebirth, I hadn’t fully grasped the severity of Dexter’s condition. I knew he had a mental illness, was considered unstable, and might even be capable of murder.

As far as I could recall, he appeared quite stable as long as he wasn’t provoked.

Hence, I hadn’t paid much attention to his condition.

When I saw him covered in blood, it frightened me.

Ewan had experienced numerous such episodes. He promptly summoned the family doctor and barged into the room.

I wanted to follow, but Ewan stopped me.

"You’d better stay outside. Mr. Black may not want you to see him like this."

He didn’t want me to witness him in a disoriented state during his episodes.

"What’s going on?" I anxiously asked Ewan.

Ewan remained silent for a moment and softly said, "It’s terrifying when Mr. Black loses control. He feels the urge to harm others, but... he’s never actually hurt anyone. He only inflicts pain on himself."

Dexter was too kind. He didn’t want to harm anyone, so he would hurt himself to maintain his sanity.

I stood frozen, watching as Ewan entered the room. The doctor administered a tranquilizer to Dexter, and his agonizing cries echoed through the door.

What kind of torment did he have to endure to turn from a genius to what he was now?

Even from outside, I could feel his pain and helplessness.

Almost unconsciously, I found myself wanting to reach out and embrace him.

When I snapped back to reality, I was bewildered by my own emotions.

Tears had unknowingly streamed down my face.

After administering the tranquilizer, Dexter finally quieted down and drifted off to sleep.

Ewan finally let out a sigh of relief.

As he emerged from the room, he looked at me and fell silent.

"Does this happen often?" I asked softly.

"Yes, it’s quite common, especially if he’s triggered," Ewan replied.

I paused for a moment, wondering if I had triggered him when I said I wasn’t Sophia.

"Mr. Black is too kind-hearted. Otherwise, he wouldn’t resort to harming himself to cope," Ewan said with a heavy heart. "We usually remove anything that could harm him from the room, but he managed to cut himself with shards after knocking over a glass of water."

I paused, feeling guilty. "I’m sorry, I didn’t know. The glass was mine. I brought it into the room to give him some cold medicine."

I hadn’t expected Dexter to harm himself. I had brought over the glass to let him have some cold medicine and left it there afterward.

Ewan fell silent. He checked the time and asked, "Would you like to learn more about Mr. Black? After all, you’re now his wife."

Ewan wanted to provide me with more insights into Dexter.

I looked up in tears. "Okay."

Ewan remained silent as he led me to the abandoned orphanage.

"When Mr. Black was 19 years old, Mr. Black Senior intended for him to pursue his Ph.D. abroad. But that day, a fire broke out at the orphanage. Someone deliberately locked him and Simeon in a room, trapping them inside. If we hadn’t arrived in time, Mr. Black would have perished as well."

The orphanage instilled a deep fear in me because I died here.

Fortunately, Ewan took me to the east wing of the orphanage.

"Maybe the culprit just wanted to frighten Dexter and Simeon, but things spiraled out of control with the fire. The whole dormitory burned down. 19 kids perished that year, except for Dexter and Simeon, who were older. The others were just seven or eight years old."

I knew Dexter and Simeon had returned to the orphanage for some annual event, where children around their age who hadn’t been adopted would gather for a ceremony.

Those who perished were the younger ones who hadn’t found a home.

"They were choking on the thick smoke when we found them trapped in the burning room," Ewan said as he pushed open the now charred and creaking door.

I stood at the doorway, stiffly trembling with fear for reasons I couldn’t understand.

The room was desolate, with only a bed frame blackened by smoke against the scorched walls.

Even after all these years, the claw marks from the children’s struggle in the fire were still visible.

I covered my mouth in fear as I shakily crouched on the ground, overwhelmed by a nauseating sensation in my stomach.

It was hard to imagine the pain and despair Dexter and Simeon endured while trapped in this room.

I could almost hear their screams of agony and feel their despair as their bodies were scorched by the flames and they were engulfed by the suffocating smoke. The marks on the wall seemed to narrate their desperation at that moment.

"Why didn’t you find them sooner?" I choked out, my heart sinking into despair.

"On that day, the Black family faced a massive tragedy. Along with the orphanage fire, Mr. Andy, his wife, and children died in a car accident. Mr. Black Senior was devastated, and the entire family was engulfed in sorrow. They forgot that Mr. Black was still at the orphanage."

Ewan’s voice croaked, and tears started streaming down his face.

"After Mr. Black woke up, he went insane. He hurried back to the orphanage and refused to listen to anyone who tried to persuade him to leave. He insisted on waiting for someone there, saying he had been asked to do so. Despite his injuries worsening, he waited patiently."

Ewan wiped his tears and continued, "It was simply a post-trauma response. With patience and family support, he could have gotten better. But Mr. Andy’s death led to Mr. Black Senior being influenced by Mr. James, resulting in Mr. Black being forcibly admitted to an asylum."

I was shocked to hear that Dexter had been forcibly confined to an asylum.

"How long was he kept there?" I sobbed uncontrollably, questioning the reason behind my grief.

"For a year and six months..."

Those were the true hellish months for Dexter.

He attempted to escape numerous times, only to be recaptured and subjected to abuse, electric shocks, and forced medication.

I couldn’t bear to imagine those brutal experiences.

"I’m sorry for bringing you here without permission," Ewan said, feeling guilty as he noticed my discomfort.

"What did he go through in the asylum? Could you take me to visit him? I’m eager to understand him better," I gazed up at Ewan and inquired.