Part 2He Made Me Crazy

When I woke up, blinding white still surrounded me.

"Miss Sarah, it's time for today's treatment."

She pushed a cart towards me, and the gleaming electroshock machine instantly made my hair stand on end.

I struggled to sit up, but my body was as soft as jelly.

It was the after-effect of the tranquilizers.

A few days later, Julian came.

He was wearing the gray cashmere sweater I'd given him, holding a bouquet of champagne roses-my favorite flowers.

"Sarah, are you feeling any better?"

Behind him, a social media influencer was live-streaming on her phone, explaining something to her followers.

"Guys, a man like Julian is truly a rare gem in this world!"

"Sarah's been diagnosed with a mental illness, but he still hasn't given up! He even brought in the world's best doctors for consultations. Seriously, Sarah must have won the cosmic lottery in a past life to deserve a husband like him!"

A flicker of smugness, however, darted across Julian's eyes.

He bent down and gently kissed my forehead.

The cold touch instantly sent a shiver down my spine.

"The doctor says if you cooperate with the treatment, you'll get better soon."

He smiled at the doctor beside him, then turned back to me, the smugness in his eyes even deeper.

This time, I saw it clearly.

The side effects of the medication left me constantly groggy, my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, making even simple thoughts sluggish.

Each electroshock felt like a thousand needles simultaneously piercing my brain, making me curl up in agony.

They said it was to "correct" my "delusions."

But all I felt was my soul being slowly drained away.

I started to lose track of day and night, of dreams and reality.

I even struggled to remember if it was Julian or Chloe who had visited.

The nurse handed me the phone, saying it was Mom.

"Sarah, just listen to the doctors. Julian told me you've been really stressed lately, overwhelmed."

"Many of the things you're seeing are just hallucinations. Don't let those crazy thoughts in your head fool you."

Mom's voice carried fatigue and a hint of helplessness, yet it seemed to awaken something deep within me.

"Mom, no, that's not right! I'm not sick! Please, let me out! I'm really not sick!"

"Mom, it hurts so much! They electroshock me every day, it really, really hurts!"

Mom sighed deeply, but there wasn't a hint of belief in her voice.

"Just focus on getting better. Julian is taking care of everything at home."

The line went dead, leaving only a cold dial tone.

I lay in bed, staring blankly at a small patch of mold on the ceiling.

It looked exactly like a distorted face, mocking my sanity.

Every day was the same: wake up, take medication, then the "treatments."

Julian's sweet talk, the small gifts he brought during visits, all felt distant and blurry, like they were behind a pane of glass.

All I remembered was that fleeting look of smugness in his eyes, and the pity and fear in the eyes of my relatives when they looked at me.

I even began to question if I really had gone mad.

Until that day, the nurse walked in, holding my medication and a patient record.

It was strange, ever since I'd been admitted.

I'd asked to see my medical records many times, but I'd always been refused.

I vaguely remembered that I knew something about therapy myself.

But no one seemed willing to listen to me.

The nurse stormed in, impatiently slamming things around.

"What kind of lazy-ass doctor is this? Can't even bother with rounds, just says he's 'busy'! I'm so over this job, seriously, anyone who wants this life can have it!"

She grumbled under her breath, shoving the pills into my hand impatiently.

"Hurry up and take your medication!"

Seeing that she didn't check my mouth as usual, I instinctively hid the pills under my tongue, pretending I'd already swallowed them.

The nurse quickly left, but the patient record lay forgotten in the room.

I opened the book, took one look, and froze.