Chapter 3

The next day, as dawn barely broke.

I was dragged out of my apartment by two officers, my arms wrenched painfully.

Twenty-four hours of forced detox had left me without the strength to even stand.

The double torment of bone cancer pain and morphine withdrawal had almost burned away my sanity.

Outside, a dense crowd had gathered, a barrage of cameras blocking the narrow hallway, making it impassable.

"That's him! The drug addict!"

"He looks so normal, so innocent... how can he be so rotten inside?"

Evelyn, impeccable in her crisp police uniform, stood at the front of the crowd, her face grim as she addressed the cameras.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Liam Stone, the drug user we apprehended yesterday. A classic example of someone who fell into the abyss of degradation due to his own vanity."

The moment her words finished, someone in the crowd, I don't know who, hurled a rotten cabbage leaf that splattered right across my face.

More rotten vegetables and foul-smelling eggs followed. Someone even spat.

In the chaos, the wig I wore due to chemotherapy was violently ripped off, exposing my bald scalp.

"Freak! He's bald!"

The jeers and insults of the crowd washed over me like a tide.

I stood there numbly, letting the filth drip down my head, soaking into my collar.

Just then, an old, angry voice broke through the crowd.

"What are you doing! Stop it! Don't you dare bully him!"

It was Mr. Peterson, my landlord.

Wielding a broom, he struggled to push through the crowd, shielding me with his frail body.

"Liam isn't a bad person! He's sick! You heartless monsters!"

Mr. Peterson used his thin body to shield me from a fresh volley of garbage.

I saw egg yolk and vegetable bits stuck in his gray hair, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it impossible to breathe.

"Mr. Peterson..."

Evelyn frowned, signaling to her team.

"Get that old man away."

Immediately, several officers stepped forward, forcibly dragging Mr. Peterson away.

Marcus quickly seized the opportunity, explaining to the camera with a'kind' but condescending tone:

"Don't be fooled, everyone. Many drug users are adept at feigning pity to gain sympathy, especially from soft-hearted elderly people. We're doing this for the old gentleman's own safety."

The crowd's emotions flared again. They pointed and jeered at the struggling old man.

"Senile fool! Duped by a junkie!"

"He's probably an accomplice! They're all in it together!"

Mr. Peterson was roughly shoved, stumbled, and fell to the ground, his forehead hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. A trickle of blood already formed.

"Mr. Peterson!" I shrieked, a raw cry escaping my throat.

Evelyn walked up to me, and in a voice only we could hear, she threatened me.

"See that, Liam?"

"If you don't want to drag this old man down with you, charged with'harboring and aiding a drug dealer,' then you'll cooperate. Understand?"

My body went rigid.

She was using the only person in this world who cared about me as a weakness to exploit.

What else could I do?

I could only hang my head, abandoning all struggle, letting the filth cover my entire body.

In front of countless cameras, I stood like a condemned prisoner, trembling, utterly despairing.