林晚挣扎着想坐起来，浑身像被拆散了重组一样疼。她咬着牙，手撑着身子，慢悠悠地撑到半坐，然后扶着旁边的床头柜，才勉强稳住身体。

房间里很安静，只有她粗重的喘息声。她抬手，摸了摸额头，湿漉漉的。镜子里映出她的脸，眼睛下面青黑一片，嘴唇干裂，脸色苍白得吓人。

“这是……第几次了？”她低声自语，声音沙哑得厉害。 memory like fragments of a broken mirror, disjointed. She seemed to be trapped in a repetitive nightmare, reliving the same tragic ending over and over again. Each time she awoke, the pain was more palpable, the heartache more profound.

She remembered the cold rain, the empty room, her own trembling hands as she called out his name, only to hear the chilling silence in return. The沈界 in her memory was distant, indifferent, his eyes never once lighting up for her. He was like a moonlight enthusiast, forever adoring the moon while ignoring the flowers beside him.

“够了，”她伸手揉了揉太阳穴，眉头紧锁，“我不要再这样了。”林晚闭上眼睛，深深的吸了一口气，试图压制住翻涌的情绪。她知道，这样下去不是办法，她需要找到结束这场噩梦的方法。

她坐起身，拢了拢身上单薄的被子，走到窗边。窗外依旧是瓢泼大雨，雨点噼里啪啦地砸在玻璃上，发出沉闷的声响。她伸出手指，轻轻摸着冰冷的窗玻璃，雨水顺着她的指尖滑落，带来一丝凉意。