The shouting grew louder. Some yelled for me to die, others called me selfish and cold-blooded.

I lay on the ground with blood at my lips, but those memories kept replaying in my mind. The memories that once kept me going were now the sharpest knives hurting me.

“You don’t understand! You don’t understand at all!”

“Don’t understand? What’s there not to understand!” Vincent grabbed my hair and smashed my face into the floor.

“We know you hid in the study while your wife was attacked! We know you protected the killer for five years! We know Tasha is still unconscious! What else do you have to say?” My forehead hit the floor, blood blurring my vision.

I knew everyone hated me; my cowardice, my protection of the killer and the harm done to Tasha. But I couldn’t speak. I really couldn’t. Some truths were more terrifying than death.

I pulled out a hidden porcelain shard I’d taken from a bowl in the detention center. When his grip on my hair loosened, I moved quickly and cut my own neck.

Warm blood poured down my neck. It was over; no more torture, no more risking that terrible truth being exposed. “Tasha, I’m sorry… this is the only way left to protect your dignity.”

“Stop him!” Vincent shouted and a strong force knocked me to the ground.

The bailiffs pinned me down. Vincent crouched, watching the blood from my neck. “Erickson, do you want to die? It’s not that easy!”

He grabbed my collar, his voice harsh. “You’ll stay alive, even barely, until I find the murderer and Tasha wakes up!”

The doctor rushed over with gauze and tools to quickly bandage my wound. Vincent stood aside and ordered sharply, “Give him a heart stimulant and a clotting shot. Do whatever it takes. Keep him alive!”

“Captain Newton, that dose is too high; it could seriously harm his nerves,” the doctor said, hesitating.

“Damage?” Vincent sneered. “Trash like him doesn’t matter. As long as he stays alive until we find the truth, even if he ends up brain‑dead, I don’t care!”

The doctor didn’t argue, took a syringe, drew the drug and injected it into my vein. The drug flowed through my veins, quickly reaching my whole body.

My heart raced, my muscles stiffened and I struggled to breathe. The bailiffs helped me back into the chair.

The gauze on my neck soaked up blood again, but the drug kept me alive; I couldn’t even faint.

“Keep extracting!” Vincent ordered the technicians coldly.

The technician nodded and restarted the machine. The metal connector felt like a sharp thorn in my head, buzzing as the machine ran.

I could feel a cold force invading my mind, pulling at my memories and trying to take the buried pieces. I fought with all my strength. I couldn’t let it win.

“Warning! The subject is resisting memory retrieval!”

“Warning! Brain waves are abnormal and erratic!”

“Warning! Brain pressure is rising above safe levels!”

The machine kept warning loudly and the screen images warped. Precious memories cracked again and again.

Veins stood out on my forehead and cold sweat mixed with blood at the corner of my mouth, dripping to the floor. My head throbbed with sharp pain; each pulse was agony.

“No! We can’t keep going!” an expert shouted. “Captain Newton, if this continues, he’ll die! He’s just a suspect, not the murderer. We can’t take his life!” Others quickly agreed.

“Yes, we must keep him alive. If he dies, we’ll never find the real murderer!”

“He’s awful, but he doesn’t deserve to die. We should follow procedure.”

But many others disagreed.

“Procedure? Did he think about procedure when protecting the murderer? Tasha’s been in the ICU for five years. Who cared about procedure then?”

“It’s better if this scum dies. At least we won’t waste food. As long as we catch the murderer, his death doesn’t matter!”

“Yes! Kill him! Avenge Tasha!”

The scene fell into chaos again as the two groups argued and even shoved each other. The livestream chat exploded with comments from both sides and the viewer count shot past two hundred million.

Vincent looked at my twisted, pained face. A brief hesitation flashed in his eyes, then turned into pure hatred. He suddenly pulled out his gun and fired into the ceiling.

“Quiet, all of you!” The gunshot stopped every argument and the room went silent. “Even if he dies today, I will uncover the truth! My sister’s pain will not be for nothing!”

He turned to the technician. “Set the machine to full power! And bring me the strongest neurotransmitter!”

The technician, pale and unsure, said, “Captain Newton, full power already exceeds human limits. Adding more neurotransmitters will burn his brain!”

“Do as I say! I’ll take full responsibility!”

The technician, too afraid to refuse, adjusted the machine with shaking hands. Another officer came with a syringe of blue liquid and gave it to Vincent.

Vincent took the syringe, came to me, tore open my uniform collar and injected all the liquid. The neurotransmitter was far stronger than I expected. As soon as it was injected, it felt like a bomb exploded in my brain.

All my defenses collapsed. The machine’s power flooded my mind, violently stealing my memories. I screamed, my body shaking uncontrollably.

Blood and white foam poured from my mouth; the pain in my head was unbearable. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, my body growing so light it seemed I might float away.

But Vincent didn’t notice my suffering, his eyes glued to the screen. “Keep going! Don’t stop! I want to see the crime scene! I want to know who the murderer is!”

The machine’s warnings became louder and more urgent.

“Warning! The subject’s brain is failing fast!”

“Warning! Brain death expected in three minutes!”

“Warning! Stop the extraction immediately!”

But no one stopped. They all wanted to know the secret this man had hidden while protecting the murderer for five years.

My shaking worsened; my body felt drained and I slowly collapsed. My mind was fading and confused.

The machine kept digging, pulling out the deepest memories from my heart. I tried to resist, but my body wouldn’t obey.

Suddenly, the flickering on the screen stopped and all the fragments formed a clear image.