After I Died, the Scumbag Went Mad

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: He Forced Me to Die, Time and Again

I once asked Julian Fletcher: Why? What gave him the right?

He said, ”Because you eat my food and live under my roof! Because you’ll never be able to repay the debt you owe my family! It’s just one spot in an exchange program. What gives you the nerve to yell at me?”

That day, I slumped to the ground like an abandoned stray dog.

Jake Abbott walked up to me, his arm around Erin Whittaker’s sister—the woman who had stolen my spot. They proceeded to tear me down with the most vicious words imaginable.

She said, ”Cecilia Caldwell, you’re pathetic. My sister is the one who deserves Julian. A low-life like you? Are you worthy? You’re just a stain on his reputation.”

Jake Abbott kicked me. ”Julian said the biggest regret of his life was letting his mother take you in,” he sneered.

I sat frozen in place, my body slowly going rigid.

”Cecilia Caldwell, if you dare breathe a word of this to Julian, I’ll kill you,” Jake Abbott continued to threaten me.

He loved threatening me in secret.

”Oh, please. Even if she snitches, Julian won’t believe her. Who would believe a woman like that anyway?”

Erin Whittaker’s sister walked away, chin held high, a handbag slung over her shoulder. It was one of those bags that cost tens of thousands, bought with a casual swipe of the credit card Julian had given Erin.

Julian Fletcher always said I owed him, that I owed the Fletcher family.

But in all my years with the Fletcher family, my living expenses and tuition barely totaled a few tens of thousands. I was on a scholarship, and once I started college, my tuition was essentially waived. The scholarship money was enough to cover my daily expenses.

I would rather work odd jobs at a 24-hour convenience store in the middle of the night than spend another cent of the Fletcher family’s money.

The only things I truly owed Julian Fletcher were the funeral expenses from the year my parents passed away and the contract termination fee he paid to one of my family’s business partners. As for the compensation owed to the workers, I covered that myself using my parents’ death benefit and the money from selling our house.

I knew I owed Julian Fletcher a lot of money, but even so... it was nothing compared to what he had spent on Erin Whittaker, her family, and her friends over the years.

I remember my junior year of college. I came down with encephalitis and a high fever and ended up collapsing on the school’s athletic field.

That day, even though I was running a high fever, Julian Fletcher forced me to go take the physical fitness test for Erin Whittaker’s sister.

I told him I had a fever and felt awful, but he just brushed it off. ”Cecilia Caldwell, if it won’t kill you, then go.”

I was in no position to argue. I’ll never forget his words: ’Cecilia Caldwell, you owe me.’

’Fine. Consider it a debt I owe him, a debt I have to repay.’

I dragged myself out of bed and staggered to the athletic field, my body feeling weak and weightless.

That day, I only made it halfway through the half-mile run before I passed out cold. I scraped my arm and forehead, and the raw skin burned with a fiery pain.

The doctor said I was insane for running a physical fitness test with a fever of 104 degrees. He said I must have a death wish.

Because of this incident, the school discovered that Erin Whittaker’s sister had tried to get someone to take the test for her, and she lost her spot in the exchange program.

I was still in the hospital when Julian Fletcher stormed into my room, his face dark as a thundercloud. He practically dragged me out of the bed. ”Cecilia Caldwell, I never knew you were so devious. Just because Erin’s little sister got the exchange spot, you had to set her up like this?”

He accused me, word by word, of being devious and calculating, yet he never once mentioned my fever, my hospitalization, or the encephalitis.

That bout of encephalitis nearly killed me. I needed money for treatment, or I might actually die. But my living allowance for the month wasn’t nearly enough to cover the steep medical bills.

I begged Julian Fletcher to lend me the money for my treatment.

I promised I’d get a job and pay him back as soon as I recovered.

But Julian Fletcher just looked at me with disgust. ”Still putting on an act, even now. Cecilia Caldwell, it’s a shame you’re not an actress.”

I collapsed to the floor, the pain in my head becoming unbearable.

”You want money? Fine. Let’s see just how far you’re willing to go for it.” Julian Fletcher sneered, grabbing my hair. ”When you asked Jake Abbott for money before, what did you give him in return? Didn’t I tell you to come to me if you needed cash? Why are you so filthy...?”

I stared at Julian Fletcher in a daze and tried to explain. ”I didn’t ask him for money...”

”Still making excuses? That mouth of yours has been spouting lies since you were a child!” Julian Fletcher shoved me away, then leaned against the wall, looking down on me. ”If you want money, then drop the act. Come with me. I’m not interested in doing it here.”

I lowered my head, hot tears streaming down my face.

I knew what he wanted to do to me.

He would call me filthy, even as he ruthlessly used my body to satisfy his own needs and vent his frustrations, again and again.

That night, my fever refused to break. I eventually collapsed in the hotel bathroom, blood streaming from both of my nostrils.

The next day, a cleaning lady found me and had me sent to the hospital.

Any later, and I might have died.

And Julian Fletcher? He never gave me the money.

With no other choice, I called Madeline. She rushed to the hospital and begged her own father—a man who had divorced her mother and never had a hand in raising her—to wire her eight hundred dollars.

For the sake of eight hundred dollars, both Madeline and I had to sacrifice our dignity.

The two of us sat in the hospital room, laughing and crying, with nothing more to say.

’I knew then that she was the only one I had left in the world.’

On the day I was discharged, I ran into Julian Fletcher at the hospital. He looked exhausted, pacing in and out of the inpatient department.