I felt scared. I could die, but not this quickly. And this wasn’t the way I had chosen to die. What if I couldn’t return?
I didn’t know where the strength came from, but I pushed the person in front of me, knocking over the eternal lamp my mother had lit for Matthew on the platform.
The lamp fell to the floor and caught the nearby curtains on fire. The villa was soon swallowed by the fire.
"Damn you, little bastard! How dare you start a fire!"
Taking advantage of their panic, I ran out, dragging my injured leg.
The villa area was surrounded by security cameras, so they didn’t dare to chase me.
Wearing a blood-stained suit, I limped to the street, dragging my broken leg as I tried to stop a taxi to get to the hotel.
Maybe because I looked frightening, no driver wanted to pick me up. At last, a kind young man stopped and asked if I needed help. I begged him to take me to the hotel.
The hotel belonged to my father and the staff there knew who I was. So even when the guards and receptionists saw me, none of them dared to stop me.