The director of the asylum, Ethan Peterson, approached me when my Kayla was dealing with the procedures and threatened me in a fierce voice, "Wesley, you should know what you can say to her. If you dare to talk nonsense about this asylum, those wonderful videos will be sent to Kayla. When you are sent back here, you will stay for more than a year."
The chill hit my spine, and I nodded desperately in agreement. "I know."
Seeing my cooperation, he looked satisfied.
Then, he packed my things and handed them to Kayla.
She gladly took it and didn't notice at all that I was wearing a fleece sweatshirt in such a hot summer.
I didn't understand why I still felt cold when I had put on so many clothes.
I couldn't help but stay close to Kayla like I did in my childhood.
My family and the Adams family were old friends.
But when I was eight years old, my parents committed suicide out of fear of punishment for embezzling company funds.
Since then, I had often been bullied by rich kids at school.
It was my sixteen-year-old sister who used her weak body to protect me. "It's his parents' fault, not his. You have to stop doing that!"
Since that day, she had become my light.