Now, the only thing keeping me company was my sketchbook.
I loved drawing and loved design. My biggest dream all these years was to have my own designs walk a runway just once. Fortunately, I'd received an invitation for next year's show. Unfortunately, I probably wouldn't make it to next year, so I wanted to finish my designs before the surgery. At least fulfill this one wish.
Drawing and revising, as the medication kicked in, I grew drowsy. I casually set the sketchbook by the bed and drifted to sleep.
When I woke up, I heard rustling by my ear. I saw a little boy holding a pencil, scribbling wildly all over my designs. The designs I'd finished were now completely unrecognizable.
I immediately sat up and grabbed the boy's hand and the ruler. "What are you doing?"
The boy startled, looked up. A face seventy percent identical to Ethan Rivers. It was Ethan's son, Tyler.
"You're a bad man. You upset my dad. I have to punish you for my dad."
Tyler started wailing, his voice shrill as nails on glass.
I looked at all my life's work destroyed. Blood rushed to my head. I didn't care if he was a child or not. "Who gave you permission to touch my sketchbook? Didn't your parents teach you? Don't touch other people's things."
Tyler cried even louder, shouting for help continuously. "The bad man's going to hit me. Help me. Aunt Sophia, save me. Grandpa, save me."
In a flash, Gabriel and Sophia both rushed in. One of them shoved me away. Both used considerable force. I slammed hard into the bed frame. My head throbbed with pain. Everything went dark before my eyes.
Quinn saw Tyler's bruised wrist covered in tears. She also turned and punched me twice. "Dad, you're terrible. Why did you hurt Tyler?"
Tyler sobbed, saying pitifully, "Tyler saw this uncle sleeping. So I wanted to cover him with a blanket. Tyler doesn't know what made uncle angry. He was going to hit Tyler. Tyler was so scared. Tyler almost got beaten to death."
Hearing these words, Gabriel exploded. "Jackson, have you lost all reason? How dare you lay hands on a child."
I said nothing. Lowered my head and touched my hair. There was blood on my fingers.
Gabriel paid no attention at all, furiously scolding. "Is this how I taught you to raise children? How could you hit a child?"
My face was ashen. I looked up. "If I said I didn't do it, would you believe me, Dad? Would any of you believe me?"
Sophia's voice was ice cold. "Jackson, stop lying constantly. Everyone saw it clearly." As if reminding me that now wasn't the time to be stubborn, but to apologize.
I smiled faintly, looking at the child who was crying while sneaking glances this way. "Fine then. Yes, I hit him, since no one believes me anyway."
Gabriel raised his hand in fury. Sophia quickly stopped him. I knew she was only worried about damage to my heart. Now that the surgery date was set, nothing could go wrong with me.
Sophia pushed the enraged Gabriel out. Only she and Quinn remained in the room.
Sophia's face was cold. "They're just pieces of paper. Why can't you be reasonable? Was it worth it?"
My body trembled. Just pieces of paper. That's my work. My life's passion. Something I love. In Sophia Caldwell's mouth, they were just pieces of paper.
I suddenly found it funny. Laughed until tears came. So in these people's hearts, I occupied such an insignificant position.
I clutched my chest, feeling pain so clear and real. So this was true. Extreme grief really could cause physical heartache.
Seeing this, Sophia's expression changed. She rushed to support me. "What's wrong? Don't get worked up. Take deep breaths. Is it worth it over such a small thing? Just don't draw anymore. Deep breaths. I'm telling you to take deep breaths."
I couldn't take it anymore. I shoved her away with force. "Get out. All of you. Get out."
Sophia didn't dare provoke me further. She turned and left, though her expression was extremely ugly.
That evening, after my emotions calmed slightly, Sophia brought me news. The surgery was scheduled for ten days from now.
I showed no reaction.
Sophia continued. "Originally I planned to wait until you recovered, but you're being uncooperative. This way, things will only get more unstable. Ten days from now is the best time."
I still just nodded calmly, as if accepting everything.
Sophia's expression softened somewhat. After a moment of silence, she said, "I'll perform the surgery myself. You'll be under anesthesia. You won't feel pain."
I heard the rare concern in her voice and looked up, revealing my weak, pallid face. "Should I thank you for that?"
Sophia couldn't say anything.
I'd grown so thin by now. My cheeks were sunken, my lips colorless. I lay on the bed with that last glimmer of unwillingness in my eyes. "Sophia, have you ever considered what if I actually die after the surgery?"
Sophia's movements froze. She stood there feeling panic for the first time. But very quickly, Sophia regained her composure, saying rationally, "The facts have proven that before the mission is complete, you won't actually die. So don't try to deceive me with words like that."
The unwillingness in my eyes vanished completely, gradually turning gray. This was my last attempt.
Sophia, in this world, no fool knows their heart is being trampled yet still naively offers it up. At least I'm not one. From now on, Jackson will disappear completely from your life.
The hospital room fell silent.
Sophia looked at the tears in the corners of my eyes. A dense pain rose in her chest, too. But very quickly, she suppressed this pain. Reason told her this was only temporary. Once the surgery was over, everything would pass. Then she would make it up to me properly. We would be like before. I would return to her side. I would live again. Everything still had a chance.
After that, I spoke very little. Each day, either drawing or staring blankly out the window. Those final ten days felt like counting down to death. I felt no attachment to anything before me.