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墨書 Inktalez
Claire sat in the prison transport, looking out at the world through the barred window. Sunlight filtered through the bars, casting a glow on her pale face, but her eyes were hollow, her heart consumed by fear. This time, she had returned to prison life, but it was completely different from before. She had entirely given up all hope and thoughts of resistance.
The transport jolted along, yet Claire's mind wandered restlessly between the past and the present. Her heart was filled with fear and despair; those who had once been part of her life had now turned into nightmares she could not escape. Mark's face, that deathly pale face, often floated before her eyes, mocking and condemning her. She could even hear his voice whispering incessantly in her ear, "Claire, you will never escape."
The face of the old woman also frequently appeared, her eyes filled with pain and despair, preventing Claire from closing her eyes. Her mind was flooded with images from that night—the old woman collapsed on the floor, convulsing, blood staining the ground. Claire felt an invisible pressure weighing down on her as if it would crush her.
As the transport entered the prison's iron gates, the heavy sound of the door echoed in her ears like a death knell. Claire was led off the vehicle; her legs felt weak, barely able to support her. The towering walls and iron bars of the prison filled her with an overwhelming sense of oppression and despair. She knew this would be her home for the rest of her life—a hell from which she could never escape.
She was pushed into a cell, and the iron door slammed shut behind her with a heavy thud. Claire collapsed onto the bed, cradling her head in despair as she wept. Her heart had long been defeated by fear; her nerves frayed, and her mental state deteriorated further.
Whenever she closed her eyes, Mark and the old woman—those deathly pale faces—would appear before her, forcing her into sleeplessness. The whispers and accusations echoed endlessly in her ears, driving her to the brink of madness.
Claire began to see hallucinations; it seemed as if Mark stood at her cell door, coldly watching her with a mocking expression. The old woman lay beside her bed, blood flowing endlessly. Her heart was filled with endless fear and regret as her mind spiraled into true madness.
Every day Claire lived in fear and pain; her mental state worsened to a point where she could no longer control herself. Her life was dominated by nightmares and hallucinations, leaving no trace of peace. She knew all of this stemmed from her own choices and actions, and she would spend the rest of her life trapped in this endless suffering without any chance of escape.
Her gaze became vacant; she had completely broken down mentally and could no longer face the harshness of reality. Deep within Claire's heart lay an abyss of fear and pain; it felt as though her soul had been torn apart beyond repair. She had descended into true madness, becoming a prisoner of the darkness within herself.
Claire spent long days in prison without any visitors. She once thought she would be forgotten, but her notoriety and crimes, along with her mental issues, made her a special case within the prison system. She was placed in a solitary cell where life was relatively peaceful—at least she didn’t have to worry about disturbances from other inmates.
Days passed one after another; Claire's mental state continued to deteriorate. Her gaze remained hollow; she appeared increasingly haggard. Each nightfall brought an overwhelming sense of fear and pain; hallucinations and nightmares relentlessly tormented her soul.
One day, Detective Jack learned about Claire's situation through some whispers. For some inexplicable reason, he decided to visit the prison—perhaps out of curiosity to see what had become of this woman who had once caused him so much trouble.
Jack arrived at the prison and went through a series of tedious procedures before finally reaching the visitation room. He sat in a chair behind reinforced glass, watching Claire on the other side. She hung her head low; her complexion was pale, eyes vacant—she looked even more worn out and exhausted than before.
Claire lifted her head and, upon seeing Jack, a flicker of complex emotion crossed her eyes, but it quickly faded back to calm. She sat in the chair with her back against the wall, hugging her knees as if trying to curl up and find a semblance of safety.
Jack looked at her, filled with countless thoughts. He had once engaged in a battle of wits with this woman, witnessing her cunning and madness. Now, she was merely a helpless prisoner, utterly defeated by her own inner turmoil.
The silence between them lingered for a long time, reinforced glass separating them, yet their exchanged glances held countless unspoken words.
"Claire..." Jack finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Do you know what you've done? Do you understand your mistakes now?"
Claire did not respond; her gaze drifted into the distance as if looking at something unattainable. Her lips trembled slightly, as if she had something to say, but ultimately, no words came out.
Jack watched her, filled with helplessness and pity. He knew that this woman had once been full of hope and dreams, but now everything had been destroyed by her own choices and actions.
"I hope you can find some inner peace, Claire," Jack continued. "No matter what happened in the past, you still have a chance to face your mistakes and seek redemption."
Throughout the entire visit, Claire remained silent. She simply sat there quietly, her eyes vacant as if she had lost all perception of the outside world. Jack also sat quietly watching her until he finally stood up helplessly and left without a word.
After Jack left, Claire continued to sit in the chair as if trapped in an invisible cage. Her life in prison went on day after day without change, and this existence would continue until the end of her life. For Claire, it was an endless torment.
She no longer spoke or made any unnecessary movements. Her life became mechanical, like a living corpse; each day's activities unfolded like a programmed routine: waking up, eating, working, resting—everything became monotonous and dull. There was no light in her eyes, only endless despair and numbness.
Claire became like an empty shell, devoid of soul and vitality. Other prisoners and guards in the prison noticed her transformation, but no one understood her true inner world. Her thoughts seemed sealed away in an unreachable depth; no matter what happened outside, she remained indifferent.
Days passed in this silence as Claire's figure grew increasingly insignificant within the prison walls. She no longer displayed any expression; it was as if all emotions had been stripped away, leaving only a cold shell behind.
Before long, a guard discovered Claire lying on the floor of her cell during a routine patrol, blood covering the ground around her. Her body was curled up tightly; her face was pale and her eyes hollow, as if she had endured endless suffering before death.
After inspection, the Guard discovered that she had used the legs of the bed frame, day by day scraping it with a fork secretly taken from the dining hall, and had fashioned it into a short and sharp weapon. This crude tool still bore traces of her blood, indicating the hardships and despair she endured while creating it.
Claire plunged this makeshift weapon into her artery, and blood quickly flowed out, staining her clothes and the floor. Her death was tragic, with a look of pain on her face, as if in her final moments she was still battling her inner fears and suffering.
The Guards stared in shock at this scene, filled with helplessness and sorrow. They knew that every day Claire spent here was tormenting, and everything finally came to an end when she chose to take her own life.
News of Claire's death quickly spread throughout the prison, and everyone felt a sense of regret for this woman who had once sparked countless controversies. Her life had gone from brilliance to downfall, culminating in despair, resembling an irretrievable tragedy.
Although news of Claire's death spread rapidly through the prison, this woman who had once stirred so much debate ultimately left this world unnoticed and uncared for. Her life was filled with a longing for attention and love; however, the more she pursued it, the further away those desires seemed to drift.
Within the cold walls of the prison, Claire had longed countless times for someone to visit her, to bring her a glimmer of warmth and comfort. Yet no one came to see her—no friends, no family, and certainly no former supporters. She lived a life devoid of concern from others, bearing her inner pain and despair in solitude.
Claire's life seemed like an endless chase. She once shone before the camera, relishing the gaze and attention of countless people, enjoying that feeling of being cherished. She thought that was happiness—the love and recognition she had always sought. However, all of it crumbled like a castle made of sand when the storm arrived.
The more she pursued attention and love, the larger her inner void became. She struggled endlessly in the whirlpool of fame and power, trying to fill the emptiness within her. But no matter how hard she tried, all she received were hollow praises and fleeting satisfaction. True love and attention remained ever distant from her.
During her lonely years in prison, Claire finally understood that those past pursuits and desires were so illusory and fleeting. She once believed she could control everything but ultimately realized that she was merely a pawn manipulated by fate. Her soul was torn apart by endless regret and pain, irreparably damaged.
In the moment she chose to end her life, Claire perhaps felt a sense of relief. She finally understood that no one in this world truly cared for her. Those past pursuits and desires became insignificant. Her life unfolded like a tragedy, drawing to a close in an uncaring corner.
Claire's body was simply taken care of; no one came to bid her farewell. The traces she left in this world gradually faded away with the passage of time, forgotten by all.
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