After hanging up the phone, I forced my body to walk towards the hospital.
There were chairs in the waiting area where I could sit; perhaps if I sat down, I could endure until Ronald arrived.
The chair was only a hundred meters from the door, yet it felt like I had walked miles to reach it.
Just as I touched the edge of the chair, someone pushed me away.
I collapsed to the ground, pain ripping through me as if my organs were being torn apart. Unable to control myself, I writhed on the floor in agony, tears and mucus streaming down my face.
A familiar voice gasped nearby, “Sorry! Teresa, I didn’t see you there!”
It was a voice I could never forget in two lifetimes.
It was Stephen’s beloved, Lily.
I lifted my tear-blurred eyes to look at her.
There she sat in a wheelchair, eyes full of triumph, looking at me provocatively.
And the person pushing her wheelchair was none other than Stephen.
My nemesis from a past life, we met again.
A torrent of hatred surged within me!
I would never forget how he brutally stabbed me thirty-eight times! He continuously hurled vile insults at me, “Worthless woman! You deserved to die…”
The mental torment and physical abuse were unbearable. The sharp pain was a hundred, a thousand times worse than my current perforated stomach. My flesh was nearly stabbed into a bloody pulp.
In his blind rage, he didn’t even spare our three-year-old daughter.
Before I took my last breath, he stabbed our daughter, Nancy Howard, to death right in front of me.
Nancy was only three years old. She was so small.
