Forced to focus on daily life [Comprehensive English and American]

The night witch appeared in the autumn of the previous year, and it has been more than a year now. She would wear the pointed witch hat and ride a bamboo broom every night, appearing in the brightly lit night sky of New York. Basically every time it appears, it will bring new surprises to New Yorkers.She has a lot of fans, and some even set up fan sites for her on ins, twitter and facebook.It's just that the photos of the Night Witch circulating on social networking platforms are all wearing blindfolds. What she shows to the world is her perfect jaw line and bright red lips that represent charm and danger.

The superheroes in New York are not actually mysterious. Except for the Spiderman who always wears tights and jumps around the streets of New York, most superheroes have shown their faces in front of the public, let alone Tony, Stark said "I am Iron Man" confidently and firmly to the cameras of the major media in New York.

So, every New Yorker wants to know what the Night Witch looks like.

However, no one expected that the night maiden behind the blindfold would have a pair of purer and more beautiful eyes than the red lips, as immature as a girl who just walked out of school, threw away her schoolbag and rode over on a broom schoolgirl.

People looked up in the light snow, staring at the blonde girl flying in mid-air on a broom, and some even took out their mobile phones and pressed the camera button on the confrontation in mid-air.

Naturally, there is no secret that can be hidden in a drawer all the time. Rosie has foreseen that one day she will be brutally stripped of her vest by others since she became a night witch. , It can be over in front of Jason and Tony, but she didn't expect that life is so fickle, and it is much more interesting than a Broadway stage play.

And the noise and exclamation of those crowding outside the garden in the middle of the street is like the appearance of a stage play after the curtain call.

It's just that the two protagonists of this play don't care about enjoying such enthusiastic attention from the audience.

The pointed witch hat fell to the ground along with the light snow.Without a hat on her head, Rosie felt a chill on her head. She stretched out her hands to gather the blond hair blown on her cheeks behind her ears, and looked at the little Green Goblin calmly. Finally, there was a little bit of flow, he raised his chin slightly, as if exhaling a breath, and then he opened his mouth, his voice seemed to be squeezed out inch by inch from his frozen throat, obscure and low: "You You know who I am, that's why you never fight back."

Rosie didn't answer.

He smiled, then lowered his head slightly, staring at Rosie with those bloodshot eyes: "You are the Night Witch? Always?"

Rosie lowered her eyes and nodded.

"Are you responsible for those ridiculous pranks that happened in New York?" The little green goblin laughed. "And you were the one who injured my father's leg... and even killed my father in front of me?"

Rosie looked up at him and said, "Yes."

As soon as she finished speaking, she heard the sound of a sharp object piercing through the air, she turned her face reflexively, the bullet flew past her cheek, and hit the glass window behind her, followed by " "Bang", the bullets rushed towards her like raindrops, and at the same time, the roar of the little green goblin was mixed with the loud bang.

"Do you know how I survived this period of time!"

Rosie backed away and looked back at him, seeing his red eyes amidst the bullets.

She was attacked by the little green goblin and forced her to the building across the street from Rockefeller Plaza. Stepping on the broom, the whole person used the broom as a fulcrum and turned around in the air. The bullets that flew at high speed hit the thin high heels of her boots one after another, and bounced in other directions like hitting a shield. .

She returned to the posture of reclining on the broom again, with the glass window behind her, staring at the little green goblin who was stepping on the glider and looking at her from a distance not far away.

Or rather, Harry Osborn.

After the rhythmless battle ended, the noise caused by the firing of hot weapons disappeared, and Rockefeller Plaza was still in a mess. Sophia was still hanging on the huge Christmas tree unconscious, while the ground On the Internet, in addition to the many trapped people, there were also many TV stations who rushed over.

The news anchors held up their microphones, facing the exterior camera, with serious expressions about the battle between the little green goblin and the night witch just now, and Rosie could continue to hear Christmas songs a few streets away.Those chaotic and rigid language, together with the occasional screams from the crowd, became the only voice in this famous Rockefeller sunken square this Christmas.

However, in Rosie's ears, these voices seemed to be separated by several layers of barriers, weak and indistinct.

She keenly captured the warm and peaceful Christmas songs a street away, like the bells on the neck of Santa Claus' reindeer beating to the rhythm, and the lyrics are sad but still make people feel cheerful.

"Last Christmas, Igaveyoumyheart, buttheverynextday, yougaveitaway..."

There are only a few classic Christmas songs, and the streets and alleys are played over and over again every year, but people never feel bored. From this street to that street, the words hummed in their mouths are also natural Changed from one song to another.

On Christmas Eve last year, she was sitting in her strange bedroom and heard the little Mr. Osborne from the neighbor’s house who was having a Christmas party with his classmates singing this song. Plenty, not at all like a lovelorn whose heart has been ruined.

Little Mr. Osborne has a sassy personality, and he was not a boy who would be depressed because of a broken relationship.

At this time, Harry's face no longer had the kind of bright and slightly arrogant boyishness before. He looked like a traveler who had lived in the swamp for many years, his chin was covered with messy stubble, and his expression was sullen and flushed. His eyes were full of hatred and hysteria.

He turned his head slightly, as if, like Rosie, he had heard the Christmas carol across the street.

"I don't have my father, I don't have my old life, I'm not even Harry Osborne anymore, I live like a rat in a sewer, last Christmas Eve, I never thought I would be This is what it is now." Harry murmured, looking into the distance.

The Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza, as well as the spotlights of the media cameras below the plaza that were broadcasting the situation in real time, cast a layer of illusory light on him, and outlined the image of a young man on this seemingly vicious terrorist. stature.

Rosie stared at him for a long time before plucking up the courage to say, "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry turned his head to look at her, curled his lips, and there was some mockery in his eyes: "Rosie, you are a very successful liar, you have fooled me, my father, and those who are The people around you who worry about you and love you have fooled the whole of New York."

Rosie felt that his eyes were like a dagger, stabbing lightly into her chest. She met Harry's eyes, breathed out, and said, "I didn't mean to...I...I just..." Her hands clenched into fists, "I just want to live."

On the verge of crime, looking for a chance.

This is the way of survival given to her by the Jingfen system.

After experiencing the death of both parents, sudden death of close relatives, domestic violence, dropping out of school, and unspoken rules, she thought she was not so afraid of death, but when that big truck ran straight towards her, she realized that she It's no different from ordinary people.

Yes, everyone, even those with severe depression, has the most instinctive desire to live.

"However, my father also wanted to live." Harry cut off her words coldly, "I used to want to live too."

Rosie turned her head slightly, looking at the Christmas tree that was shining brightly in the snowy night.

Harry gritted his teeth and rushed towards Rosie, clenched his hands into fists, just like when he charged at her with a knife in the hospital, with hatred in his eyes.Rosie's body had already judged an impending attack, and the broom under her began to shake anxiously. She exerted all her strength, restrained her body's instinct to dodge, and stepped back, her bare shoulders pressed against the cold glass windows.

The people on the ground who witnessed all this through media cameras hurriedly shouted "Night Witch, run away" and "Night Witch, fight back". These voices were chaotic and disorderly, overshadowing the cheerful and sad song outside a street.

Rosie closed her eyes, feeling the wind from the fist, together with the light snow falling from the sky, gently brushing against her cheeks.

The next moment, a muffled sound came into her ears, and she, who is proficient in firearms, immediately realized that it was the sound of a sniper/gun silencer. She opened her eyes suddenly, but a hug belonging to Harry was greeted in her vision .

The moment Harry hugged her, she heard the sound of bullets piercing flesh, and Harry's muffled groan in her ear.

At this moment, her whole body froze, and an ominous premonition welled up in her heart. With trembling hands, she slowly lifted her arms up and hugged Harry's weak body.

The broom seemed to be unable to support the weight of the two people, and it sank a notch. The next second, the second bullet hit the glass above her head, and the glass shattered, and the pieces fell like snowflakes. Little scratches and scratches on her bare shoulders and arms.

It's just that at this time Rosie has no time to pay attention to the sniper hiding in the dark, nor has she noticed that the exclamation of the people has also become "Iron Man and Spiderman are coming".

Harry's whole body was pressed against her shoulders, and the broom slowly landed towards the ground. She hugged Harry tightly, buried Harry's head in the hollow of her shoulder with one hand, and groped behind him frantically with the other hand. , looking for the bloody bullet hole.

"Rosie, you're such a liar." Harry's weak voice rang in her ear.

Her movements paused, and then said: "Don't talk, I'll take you to the hospital, you'll be fine."

Harry laughed, "I've become a bad guy like my father, shouldn't you put your gun...to my head..."

"Shut up, Harry," snapped Rosie.

"Oh, this is what you really look like...that Rosie Mathers who is always gentle and amiable to everyone...it's not you..." Harry stretched out his hand and patted her on the shoulder , "Rosie, I am no longer who I used to be. I... today, I came here with the determination to die."

So early in the morning, before everyone in the community got up, he came to the courtyard gate of Mathers' house, stared at the window on the second floor for a long time, and then wrote the letter that had been written the night before. The finished Christmas card was delivered to the mailbox of Mathers' home.

On last year's Christmas Eve, he sang a seriously out-of-key "Last Christmas" to that window amidst the laughter and laughter that filled the courtyard, but this year's Christmas Eve, he could only look at that window, in a word Can't tell either.

He thought, let this greeting card be his last message in her world, let her think that he has already lived a good life that no one can imagine in a certain corner of the world.

After turning around and taking a few steps, he turned his head again, looked at the window, and moved his lips.

"Merry Christmas, Rosie." Harry buried his face in Rosie's neck, he felt that the blood from the corner of his mouth had soaked her skin, and in his heart that was gradually stopping, a kind of With a strange sense of satisfaction, he exhausted his last bit of strength, hugged her tightly, and whispered in her ear, "I like you, you liar..."

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This chapter is really squeezed out of many disasters. On the one hand, it is relatively busy. I went on a business trip on the second day of my new job, and followed the leader to the mountain for inspection; on the other hand, there are some Calvins. I struggled with Li Bushi for more than half a month. To be honest, an author like me who has no outline is really prone to make such mistakes in the later stage; the third aspect...is...I am really unlucky! ! ! ! !

QAQ, who of you can tell fortunes, help me do the math, I really don’t want to say how unlucky I am during this time