My First Words in Three Years Were "We're Over"

Chapter 2

Andrew was right. Aside from the two of them, I didn't have a single friend in the world.

Three years ago, on a rainy night that burned itself into my memory, an intruder broke into our home and brutally murdered my parents. I was left spiraling in the throes of severe post-traumatic stress disorder, trapped in a silent prison of functional aphonia.

Back then, I locked myself in my room, curled into a ball, and refused to see anyone.

Andrew was my childhood sweetheart. He was the one who pulled me out of that dark, suffocating abyss. He learned sign language for me, gently taking my hand and guiding me back to school.

When my classmates called me a dummy, Andrew—usually so mild-tempered and soft-spoken—threw his very first punch to defend me.

When people whispered behind my back about how I had no parents, he held my hand tightly, his eyes blazing with conviction as he swore he would give me a family of my own.

Eventually, we got into the same university. That was where I met Sarah. She was a vibrant, outgoing social butterfly. Even though I was cold and unresponsive, she relentlessly showered me with affection, determined to break through my shell.

Bit by bit, we became good friends.

Before I realized it, my entire universe revolved around just the two of them.

So, when Sarah put a dead rat under my blanket just to scare me into shouting, I didn't hold a grudge.

When Andrew hired someone to pretend to be a burglar and break into my room, I forgave him, too.

Under the noble banner of "doing it for my own good," they staged one cruel prank after another.

The worst one happened during a trip to a city we had never been to before.

After finishing dinner, we stepped out onto the bustling streets, and Sarah suggested taking a late-night stroll.

As we turned into a dark, deserted alley, the two of them exchanged a quick glance and suddenly sprinted away, abandoning me in the shadows.

I froze in confusion. Before I could even attempt to run after them, a rough hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me violently deeper into the darkness.

I was thrown hard against the concrete. Sharp, shattered beer bottles sliced into my skin, tearing through my clothes as burning pain radiated across my back.

A filthy, menacing man loomed over me, a nauseating sneer plastered across his face as he spewed disgusting, vulgar threats.

Terror seized my heart. I wanted to scream, to shriek for help with every fiber of my being. But no matter how wide I opened my mouth, all that tore past my trembling throat was a series of frantic, suffocating gasps.

At the most critical moment, Andrew and Sarah suddenly burst back into the alley, chasing the man off.

Andrew pulled me into his arms, holding my trembling body tight as he showered me with gentle kisses. "Don't be scared, baby. Don't be scared... I swear we'll never hire anyone to terrify you like this again."

Sarah stomped her foot in utter frustration. "Andrew! Why did you go back so soon? It's not like that guy was actually going to hurt her! Lauren was on the verge of shouting out! You ruined everything!"

That was the moment I realized the horrifying truth. It had all been a staged trap to force me to speak.

In a fit of fury, I slapped Andrew across the face with everything I had, and blocked Sarah on every platform.

A few days later, Andrew showed up at my door, dragging Sarah along to play peacemaker. "Lauren, stop being mad. Sarah only did it because she cares about you. You've been ignoring her, and she hasn't been able to swallow a single bite of food for days."

My hands flashed bitterly. "I don't want this kind of 'care.' I'm done being her friend."

Sarah's eyes turned red, spilling tears as she looked up at Andrew softly. "Andrew... what is she saying? Is she really not going to forgive me?"

Andrew set his jaw, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "No. Lauren said she knows you were just trying to help, and she's not mad at you anymore."

Sarah wiped her eyes, her sorrow instantly vanishing into a radiant smile. "I knew it! Oh, Lauren, you're the absolute best!"

My eyes widened in utter disbelief. I pulled out my phone, frantically typing to expose his lie, but Andrew forcefully pinned my hand down, leaning in close to whisper in my ear, "Lauren, I helped plan this, too. If you’re going to cut Sarah off, does that mean you don’t want me either?”

I froze, completely stunned into silence.

It was that very moment of hesitation that gave them the ultimate weapon to control me.

Andrew had promised never to scare me again, but whenever Sarah proposed another "exposure therapy" scheme, he compliantly went along with it.

When Sarah wanted to use horror scenes to shock my vocal cords back to life, Andrew secretly swapped the romantic movie we were going to watch at the cinema for a gory thriller.

When Sarah wanted to abandon me at an overcrowded amusement park, Andrew tricked me into handing over my phone beforehand so I couldn't call for help.

If I ever dared to get mad at one of them, the other would threaten me with the same words—"Then you don't want me either?"

In this twisted, codependent triangle, the two of them had forged an ironclad alliance.

And I was nothing more than the disposable glue holding their dynamic together.

My phone buzzed with a sharp vibration. I tapped the screen, only to see a cold system notification that Andrew had removed me from our group chat.

He really didn't need to do that. After all, they were always messaging each other privately, and there had hardly ever been much activity in the group anyway.

Without a second thought, I deleted the chat, scrolled down my contacts, and opened a different profile.

Then, I typed out a single message and hit send.

Lauren: Uncle Marlin, I agree to go abroad for treatment.