Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Chapter 86: A Tether in the Bleeding Dark

Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Chapter 86: A Tether in the Bleeding Dark

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Chapter 86: A Tether in the Bleeding Dark

...

...Hmm?

Where am I?

Soren tried to mutter the words, but they died in his throat.

Urgh...

It’s painful...

His mind was an absolute maze, a fractured mirror of disjointed thoughts and heavy, suffocating darkness.

...N-no... Why...

He could feel his body, every limb and every nerve ending, but he was completely unable to move. It felt as if an entire mountain range had been stacked directly onto his chest, pinning him into the abyss. The sheer weight of the paralysis was exhausting. Unable to fight the crushing fatigue, his consciousness slipped away, plunging him back into the void.

’...’

He woke up again.

The heavy pressure remained unchanged, and the darkness remained absolute.

Eventually, he drifted out, and after who knows how long, he woke up again.

The agonizing process repeated itself an countless number of times, a cruel loop of brief awareness followed by immediate blackout. Time lost all meaning. He was trapped in a purgatory between life and death, fighting just to register a single sense.

Yet, during some of those brief moments of awareness, the crushing pressure on his chest would suddenly lighten. A profound, inexplicable sensation of comfort would wash over him, cutting through the haze. His right hand would feel incredibly warm, imbued with a soft, gentle heat, as if someone were tenderly holding it, anchoring him to reality.

Then the darkness would claim him once more, pulling him backward, and the comforting warmth would dissolve into the icy chill.

Slowly, the heavy silence of the void began to shift, the deep blackness expanding and reshaping itself into solid walls until he could finally move his limbs.

He looked down, noticing his small, thin hands and the worn-out clothes of his younger self. The surroundings had completely transformed, leaving him standing in the dim, oppressive hallway of his childhood home.

Figures walked right past him, the silhouettes of family members whose faces were blurred but whose cold, distant postures were instantly recognizable. He reached out, trying to speak, trying to call for help, but they walked straight through his fragile frame as if he were nothing but a ghost.

Suddenly, a heavy hand gripped his shoulder from behind, shattering the illusion of being unseen.

"Get out of my way, trash!"

A violent shove sent him crashing hard against the wooden floorboards, the impact jarring his ribs and stealing the breath from his lungs.

"Tch, an eyesore."

A sharp kick followed, striking his side with a dull, agonizing thud that left him curling inward on himself, gasping into the dust. He lay there, trembling, pressing his forehead against the cold wood as footsteps retreated down the corridor.

"Useless."

"Trash."

"Unawakened garbage."

"Don’t bother with him."

"He should just disappear."

"..."

"..."

The words echoed down the hallway, cold and biting.

"..."

Soren lay still, staring at a knot in the floorboards as the harsh comments drifted past him.

He had heard these exact phrases so many times before that they barely registered anymore. His chest felt hollow, a familiar armor of pure indifference shielding him from the stinging vitriol. He didn’t try to get up, nor did he look after them. He simply watched the blurred figures of his family walk away, waiting for the predictable routine of their dismissal to conclude.

However, the routine of being struck down, insulted, and entirely ignored stretched out into a seemingly endless cycle, until the fragile shield of his numbness finally began to crack.

The heavy, suffocating atmosphere of the house began to press against his bruised shoulders, heavier than before.

A slow, creeping ache started to bloom deep in his chest.

It was a lingering, subconscious residue of an old pain, a reminder of just how many years he had spent running until his lungs burned, fighting to prove he belonged to a circle that had already discarded him.

He was completely alone in this massive, hollow house, nursing his bruises in the dark with absolutely no one to look his way.

"..."

As the quietness of the empty corridor settled over him, the physical throbbing of his injuries gave way to a much deeper ache, slowly eroding the protective wall he had built around his heart. The indifference gradually dissolved, leaving behind a sharp, localized sting that hurt far worse than any physical blow.

He looked down at his small, trembling hands, feeling incredibly small.

Then, the emotional tide turned once more.

The overwhelming hurt became too much to process, forcing his mind to shut down the pain completely. A wave of profound exhaustion washed over him, and he became entirely numb to them again.

Let them talk. Let them look down on him. None of it mattered anymore.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the floor beneath his feet began to soften, turning into cold, dark ash. His legs felt heavy, sinking into the gray powder as it gave way.

He simply began to sink, drifting downward into a vast, bottomless void.

The cold air rushed past him in a slow, agonizing draft as he fell deeper into the dark. The silhouettes of his family grew smaller and smaller above him, their distant figures fading into the gloom until they vanished entirely.

He was just a speck tumbling through an endless, silent abyss, slipping away from a world that had always rejected him.

The cruel whispers of the past lingered in the air, swirling around him like a freezing wind, threatening to swallow him whole.

He felt so tired.

It felt... It felt easier to just stop fighting and let the darkness take him.

’Yeah...’

’It’s better... to give... up.’

The thought drifted away, ready to dissolve into the absolute quiet of the void, but the expected coldness never came.

Instead, a familiar, profound warmth bloomed against his right hand. It was a gentle, grounding heat that spread rapidly through his fingers, acting as a stubborn anchor that refused to let him slip any further into the descent. As the touch tightened its grip, the heavy silence of the abyss began to fray, parting to allow a sound to drift down from somewhere far above.

"S..."

"S..e..."

"Soren..."

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