White City Murder Expo

After a while, I pushed Hunter away, got up from the ground, and tried to drag him upstairs again, but soon, before I got halfway there, I completely gave up on this plan.Then things started to repeat itself: I put Hunter down where I was, and went up to the second floor by myself, only this time to untie the rope from the beams; and he never ran away again.

I sat on the chair, put on my shoes, moved the chair back to its original position, went downstairs, opened the door and took a look, but there was no one around, so I dragged Hunter back to my own house, and I didn’t forget to close the door before leaving , and locked it with the key in his pocket.

Hunter's skin is still soft and his joints can move, but he has lost his body temperature.I put him in the trunk. His tall stature made the small trunk look crowded. I held on to the trunk lid and stared at him. This was probably the last time we would see each other.Hunter maintained a curled-up side-lying position, like a fetus in amniotic fluid; life and death have much in common.I feel relieved and content, even if I just look at it and do nothing.

After a long time, I put down the back cover and made a soft sound.

**

Cillian looked visibly surprised when he saw me.He opened the trunk, looked at me, then at Hunter inside. "I've seen this man," he asked. "Did you kill him?"

I thought for a while and said, "Yes."

His surprise dissipated after a while, and he even started to lose his mind in front of me, motionless, as if he was looking at somewhere far away.He shook his hand in front of his eyes, but he didn't get a response, so he stood there for a while at a loss, thinking about waiting, so he simply leaned on the car and lit a cigarette.Halfway through the smoke, he suddenly came back to his senses and said to me: "Let's go." It was as if nothing had happened.I'm curious what happened just now, but it has nothing to do with me at all, and it's not good to know.If so, don't ask.

We drove to the hospital, and after a brief handover, Hunter's body was carried away by those strange medical students.

I also took anatomy class when I was in school, and most of our subordinates were unidentified abandoned corpses, prostitutes or homeless people; sometimes there were some who couldn’t figure out the way, and looked at their clothes, and it seemed that they shouldn’t have died on the street and were unclaimed. Now I think about it , maybe like Hunter.

I pictured him lying alone on the operating table, surrounded by students who were half terrified, half eager to try.They'd talk about his red hair, and after practice, maybe at lunch, they'd mention him again, saying, "No fat, easy to dissect." And then he'd be forgotten, like all the like the human body.

"Oh, maybe it shouldn't be done," I murmured, "we..."

Cillian divided the money evenly in two, and one of the piles was placed in my hand.

"Time to go," he said.

Then we headed back to Cillian's and he scrubbed the trunk for me like last time, "That's it," he said, closing the trunk lid and looking at me, rag in hand.His attitude hasn't really changed, but I don't feel so good, something has changed.He didn't invite me in for a cup of coffee, and his eyes seemed more indifferent, looking at me as if he were looking at any random stranger.I still wish Cillian looked at me as tenderly as before.

"Can I go in and get a glass of water?" I offered to ask.

Cillian agreed without much hesitation.Am I being too sensitive?I leaned on the sink, holding the hot coffee he gave me, and nameless anxiety welled up in my heart.

"Can you kiss me?" I asked.

"Why?" Cillian asked back.I can't give a reason, and I can't think of any reason for such an action.But I understand that I was rejected.

"Why?" I asked him back, "Obviously you accepted the inspector's body."

Cillian looked at me, and I read pity in his eyes, the way a grown man looks down at a child who doesn't understand. "They're different, Sue. The red-haired young man isn't a bad guy."

After he finished speaking, he turned and walked away, silently, maybe doing some trivial things just to get away from me.In a way, Cillian is really gentle.Maybe he was angry, but he didn't lose his temper, and he didn't raise his voice; maybe he wanted me to leave quickly, and didn't even intend to let me in in the first place, but I'm still here, without a clear eviction order.

I held the cup, and the small glass was turning back and forth in my hand, turning back and forth, giving off the smell of bitter coffee.In a moment of distraction, it suddenly dropped its hand and hit the ground for some reason, the fragments burst, and the translucent black coffee flowed all over the floor. Cillian was in the living room, heard the movement, and turned his head.

"I'm sorry, I..." I said incoherently, squatted down and picked up the fragments of glass with my hands and threw them into the trash can. The pulp of my fingers and the palm of my hand were cut in no time. It wasn't painless, but the shameful feeling urged me Clean up the mess asap.I picked up larger fragments, and some fine fragments could only be touched on the ground with bare hands, leaving faint red marks on the ground where my fingers brushed.Why do I always seem to be picking up the endless mess over and over again?Will everything I've been through come to an end?These two questions kept lingering in my mind, my heart beat faster and faster, and soon I couldn't think of anything else.I felt suffocated, gasping for breath without relief, accompanied by sweating and heart palpitations; then I found that I couldn't even control my breathing, I exhaled rapidly without inhaling air, the feeling of suffocation became more and more intense, and my sight also become blurred.I started ringing in my ears and had tears all over my face.I covered my mouth and nose with my hands, and my hands kept shaking. After a while, someone forcibly broke my hands away, covered my face with a paper bag, and exhaled.Breathe, exhale—inhale.What he said, I couldn't make out, I knew he was Cirrian, that's all.

My mind was empty, I don't know how long it took, and my breathing gradually calmed down.I knelt on the ground and Cillian held me in his arms and didn't seem to mind that my back was completely drenched in cold sweat, but I struggled uncomfortably to push the paper bag away from my face.

Cillian seemed so gentle, so... stable.My heart was still beating fast, and I felt weak and excited at the same time, inappropriately.I kept looking at him, not caring if the sight was offensive, and Cillian didn't seem to care.He wiped my face with his fingertips, maybe I got the blood on my face; the numbness in my hands and feet gradually subsided, and the tingling pain spread all over my hands.

Cillian washed the rag and wiped the coffee off the floor, and he was gone for a few minutes, which I found unbearable, but he was back soon, with a small medicine chest, spread out on the ground.

"Stretch out your hand." He said, after thinking for a while, he picked up my hand by himself, and lightly touched those deep or shallow cuts that were still bleeding, and my hand couldn't help shaking. "Why did you hurt yourself like this, Sue?" He sighed, grabbed my hand and began to treat the wound, not very professional, it hurt me very much, and I didn't say anything.I just kept looking at him, his soft flaxen hair and downcast gray eyes.It would be nice if he could keep looking at me too.I desperately wanted to say something to get his attention.

"Cirian." I called his name.

Cillian answered, and looked up at me.

"You need money and I will give it to you," I said, "don't leave me...I..."

I wept in his arms.But to be honest, I don't really know why I'm crying anymore.