TPCF 58

CHAPTER 58

She shook her head. She wasn’t the one who deserved comfort right now. Rutger’s palm had been torn open where the glass had pierced it—there might even be fragments still embedded inside. He might never be able to draw again. In contrast, Anita hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch. If anything, the only thing that hurt was her tailbone from when she’d fallen earlier.

“I’m hurt,” he said.

It was a trick Rutger used often—pretending to be in more pain than he was to draw sympathy, to get what he wanted.

Of course, he was in pain, but Anita’s presence wouldn’t miraculously heal his wounds. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse him. The exhaustion and pain etched across his face softened her heart.

In the end, she carefully sat down beside him.

She ought to thank him. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, she would have already—

Anita shivered at the awful image that flashed through her mind and murmured quietly,

“Thank you.”

“For what? For me being hurt?”

How could he still joke at a time like this?

Anita wanted to scold him, but when she opened her mouth, the words came out in a trembling, pitiful voice.

“I…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence.

If she had reacted properly when Charles Bennet first started showing strange behavior, could this whole thing have been prevented?

She should’ve just stayed quietly in the dormitory.

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, it is. Because of me, your hand…”

As Anita muttered in self-reproach, a hand landed gently on her shoulder.

“Let’s figure out whose fault it is later. First things first—we need to treat that wound.”

“Oh, I can do it. I can handle it.”

“I hate to say this, Anita, but you’ve got somewhere you need to be.”

Edmund scratched his cheek.

“Liliana, the guests haven’t come in yet, right? Go tell them the schedule’s changed due to internal school matters.”

“To when?”

“…Never mind. Let’s just move it outdoors. Do we still have the stage from the entrance ceremony?”

“Probably.”

As Liliana hurried off, Edmund turned back to Anita.

“Sorry, looks like I can’t go with you after all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just follow them for now.”

“After we treat his hand.”

Anita couldn’t bring herself to leave Rutger behind like this. She clearly had no intention of going anywhere until she saw him properly treated. Seeing her expression, Edmund rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

“Didn’t I mention I’m in the medical department? I can handle basic first aid.”

He carefully unwrapped the blood-soaked coat from Rutger’s hand. The moment Anita saw the wound, she winced. The injury was worse than she’d imagined—not a clean cut from a blade, but a jagged gash from uneven glass, torn and gouged deep.

As Edmund peeled the fabric back, blood welled up again, spilling over his fingers. He turned Rutger’s wrist gently, clicking his tongue.

“The bleeding’s bad, but it’s not hopeless.”

“…”

“If the hand or fingers were severed, that’d be another story. But this? A few stitches should do.”

After examining the wound for a moment, Edmund lifted his head.

“I’ll take care of him. You go.”

Go where, exactly?

Edmund called over a few student council members and instructed them to take both Rutger and Charles to the hospital. Truthfully, Anita didn’t want Charles to be treated at all. If he recovered, he might come back with talk of revenge or some other nonsense.

But her feelings about that would change only a few hours later.

Anita sat in the police station, her face tense with worry.

“Here. Fill in the blanks on this form.”

A weary-looking officer, practically dripping with indifference, tossed her a sheet of paper and a pen before wandering off. Left alone in the midst of uniformed officers with batons hanging from their belts, Anita fidgeted restlessly.

She had never imagined she’d find herself in a place like this. How had things come to this point?

She stared blankly ahead until she accidentally locked eyes with one of the officers. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Anita immediately remembered who he was and turned her head away in panic, pretending not to notice. The same officer who’d once tripped and fallen while trying to chase her down rubbed his chin thoughtfully and muttered, “She looks familiar…” before losing interest and returning to his work.

Once she was sure he wasn’t paying attention, Anita picked up the pen. She frowned as she looked down at the form.

Details of the incident?

She wished she could explain what had happened in detail, but the truth was she didn’t know why Charles had done what he did.

Even if she mentioned the stalking, there was no proof—nothing that would hold up unless Charles admitted it himself.

After a long hesitation, Anita began to write. When she finally filled the page, she set the pen down. The officers who had earlier been glancing at her with idle curiosity now seemed to have lost interest. That was fine by her—attention from the police was never a good thing.

Unable to sit still, Anita picked up the pen again and fiddled with it. She didn’t want to waste any more time here; she needed to check on Rutger.

“Finished writing?”

“Yes.”

She jumped to her feet almost before the question was finished and thrust the paper toward the man. Startled by how close she’d leaned in—close enough that the paper brushed his chin—the officer instinctively took a step back.