White City Murder Expo

If God gives me a chance to choose someone to disappear from the world, I will definitely reserve this spot for my neighbor Hunter.I hate him, bloody brat.Normally, I would have spat under his feet through the railing, but not today.I glanced at him coldly, he froze for a moment, and I went back to continue cleaning my car.After a while, I heard cursing murmurs and footsteps fading away behind me.

When I got home, I took a shower and sat on the couch feeling very melancholy.I figured I'd better go find Hunter and find out what he knows, but we're not the kind of neighbor who gives each other pastries.In fact, from the first day he moved in, having a party in the courtyard until the early morning, I saw him as very unpleasant. Later, various small frictions deepened this contradiction. I knew that I hated him much earlier than I knew him. name.

It pains me to think of visiting this fellow, alas.Only the "pop" sound of the cork being pulled out of the mouth of the bottle can give me a little comfort.After lounging on the sofa for a long time, I got up and knocked on the door of Hunter's house.

The Irishman stood in the doorway, looking down at me with uncomfortable eyes.

"Did you just climb out of the barrel?" Hunter said, frowning.

I didn't speak.

After being silent for a while, he asked again: "What's wrong with your face?" Before he finished speaking, he stretched out his hand and poked the corner of my mouth, and I gasped with a "hiss".

I slapped his hand away annoyed.How come there are still people in this world who casually touch other people's mouths? "It's broken, otherwise, you gnawed it?"

"how did you make it?"

"none of your business?"

Hunter frowned at me: "You must be sick, idiot."

What is his expression?What is his expression?What is his expression?Hunter looks no more than 25 years old, and I can be regarded as his elder.Are you not British?Didn't your mother ever teach you to stop looking at people with your nostrils if you're taller than them?

Seriously, his red hair and paint-stained shirt and hands-in-pocket nonchalant pose are so fucking fucked up.I grabbed the doorknob, slammed the door hard in his face, and left in a huff.

He opened the door and yelled at me from behind, "If you ever walk in my yard, Sue Seides, I'll shoot you!"

When I got home, I fell asleep on the floor in the hallway, and when I got up, I was half sober.I thought dazedly, this is not right.

Take 10 minutes now to reflect on my plan: try to have a chat with Hunter and find out what he knows about that night.If he has the misfortune to know too much, ask him to keep Petra for company.So far I haven't considered the possibility of buying him.If he knew that my son had killed someone, he would call the police before I even had the money, that's the kind of guy he is.

But man.I sat on the ground weakly, inserted my hand deeply into my hair, and rubbed it.Is there a weirdo like me in the world?Knocking on someone's door without saying a word, then slamming the door and leaving without saying a word, and finally asking nothing?

I recall hearing him threatening to shoot me if he saw me again, and he would.But I had to go to him again until my purpose was achieved.

After much deliberation, I decided to follow the example of those friendly idiots and knock on the neighbor's door with a plate of something.There are not many things I can make, and the only pastry is apple pie, because Mathilde likes apple pie, which is very sweet.I got some not-so-fresh apples from the basement, cut them into small pieces, and boom.Boom.Boom.Every strike feels like chopping a knife into the chopping board.Accidentally, I cut my own hand, and the cut opened suddenly as if breathing, and blood flowed profusely.I sucked my fingertips into my mouth and tasted the salty taste of blood.I'm suddenly exhausted, and I'm haunted by a sense of self-destruction—just let him live with the consequences, Butcher.Nothing to be ashamed of, there are never winners in this world.Even if you evade the law, retribution will still come to you, ten years, 20 years, a lifetime longer than fixed-term imprisonment... There are many visible and invisible shackles outside the prison; There are a thousand ways for you to pay it back.

The wound that beat like a heart and the aching temple slowly took away all the strength in his body.There is nothing wrong with my nose, I can smell the alcohol on my body, accompanied by ringing in the ears and groggy dizziness.I gently put down the knife, supported the counter top, and slid my body down until I squatted on the ground.With my finger in my mouth, I looked at the tip of the knife protruding from the table from bottom to top, like a dog's perspective.

I haven't even made apple pie for my son.