Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Chapter 311

"Dr. Damian..." The doctor beside him was clearly uncomfortable; what was happening seemed fundamentally inhumane.

Any doctor with a shred of conscience wouldn't want to torment a patient with mental illness.

Colin was a patient, but he was also a human being.

The other doctors averted their eyes, simmering with anger but silent in their protest.

At Sea City Mental Health Sanatorium, next to the director, was Damian. And since Damian was married to the director's daughter, he was essentially the most powerful and influential person there.

No one dared to challenge him.

No one dared to question him.

Damian glanced coldly at the hesitant doctor. "This kind of experimental data is a rare opportunity."

I gripped Colin's hand tightly, glaring at Damian with fury. "You're the real monster here."

Damian simply looked at me, his expression unreadable.

Nearby, Dexter seemed to realize something was off with Colin. "Dr. Damian, you just need to get him back quickly. There's no need for—"

"Dexter," Melody, with tears in her eyes, interrupted before he could finish. "Dexter, when Caleb loses it, it's terrifying. Let's not interfere; the doctors must have their reasons."

Dexter frowned, glancing at me subconsciously. It was as if he was searching for a plea in my eyes. As if my asking would prompt him to keep advocating for me.

But I didn't ask.

just held Colin's hand tighter. "Can you hold on? Shall we

labored,

like a walking corpse,

his spirit, paralyze his

smirk as he saw

come here,"

was tinged with excitement, as if conducting some macabre

as if fighting an intense internal battle. He let go of my protective

moment, my eyes filled with tears. I clung to him helplessly, not wanting to

back with me," Damian ordered

pushed me away and walked

seemed there was nothing unusual after all, just a patient with stronger resistance to

with a challenging gaze.

was warning Dexter to keep

to take my hand. "Phoebe... He should go back and

you know what the most effective treatment for the mentally ill in mid-20th-century Europe was?" Damian turned

my fists

He pointed to his own

him, overcome with a

his arms, restraining me. "Phoebe!

had no right to subject Colin to such a procedure, but still, I was terrified. The lengths these people would go to, the law meant nothing to

it hit me, what Colin had said before: We

not be human at