That night, Aaron lay beside me, just like before.

He reached out to touch me, and I moved away.

But he was still overbearing and pulled me into his arms.

"Amanda, I've arranged for a tracker. This way, we'll always know where the other is."

After saying this, he remained silent, only tightening his hold on me.

A tracker—something embedded under the skin. Aaron was serious this time; he was determined to keep me tied to him.

Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, and his breathing grew heavier. It seemed like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long time.

I crawled out of bed, and he didn't notice.

I went to the bathroom and pulled out a small pill from my sleeve.

The doctor had said that once I took it, the baby would be gone on its own.

I reached down to touch my belly—it was hard to let go.

This was my first child, and it would be my last.

Having had it, it can be considered fulfilling.

Just as I picked up the pill and hadn't swallowed it yet, the atmosphere around me grew cold.

In the next second, Aaron's large hand wrapped around mine.

He took the pill, and I tried to snatch it back.

But he shoved me hard against the wall.

"What is this?"

He stared at me, his eyes red like blood.

"Amanda, do you hate me so much that you'd kill our child?!"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment and rage, ready to spill over.

He hadn't been asleep; he had known all along that I was going to kill the baby.

So he was waiting, waiting for me to take action.

"Aaron... I..."

I tried to explain, but it seemed like he had reached his limit.

He threw me onto the bed.

My bones felt like they were about to shatter as he ripped off his shirt.

He pressed down on me.

"You don't want the baby. You don't want me to have any leverage over you, is that it?"

I... had lost all dignity.

But I didn't want to explain. I wouldn't tell him I was dying.

He was crazed, and all I remembered that night was pain.

Aaron wasn't satisfied with my reaction. He didn't stop until I started bleeding.

He left, without even looking at me.

He stripped me bare and left me lying on the bed. Not long after, a doctor came in.

I had lost all my energy. The doctor said my body was too weak.

He told me to get plenty of rest.

After three bottles of nutrient solution, the child was saved again by him.

The next day, Aaron took me to get that tracker implanted.

The place was dark, and I was locked to the bed.

"Anderson, anesthesia isn't good for the baby," a man in a white coat said from the side.

Aaron didn't respond, but his expression said it all.

The child... is a more important bargaining chip than me.

I lay on the cold bed, the flesh on my wrist being cut open. My face was covered in cold sweat, but I refused to make a sound.

"Amanda, if it hurts, just scream... please..."

Aaron was frightened by my silence, but I just smiled at him.

I wondered, when I die, would this thing follow me into the grave?

It was terrifying to think about.

Then, I passed out—it hurt too much.