White City Murder Expo

The next day I was unable to go to Sirian's as promised because I was ill.The powder that was supposed to be brought to Andy was already wrapped and placed on the bedside, but I couldn't move. I was as cold as if I had lost temperature in water, and I couldn't stop shivering.I was lying on the bed when I heard the sound of Butcher opening the door and coming in. A glass of water was gently placed on the head of the bed.He reached out to check my temperature, and after a while, he pressed his lips to my forehead, they were cold, dry and soft.

"I have a fever, no doubt," I said.

I don't want to infect him, I want to push Butcher away, but he can easily hold my wrist now.I'm passive again, like we were before, and it's hard to say whether it's a good or bad feeling.

"Butcher," I asked, "you don't seem to be that close to me recently, is it my illusion?"

Butcher didn't answer right away, he just helped me up, handed me the glass, and I took the aspirin with water.After a while, he said, "It's because you've been too busy to see anyone recently."

"It's not for you." I said.

And he was noncommittal.

"How do you think I've looked lately?" I asked.

"Uh," he hesitated for a while, "what do you mean?"

"People say that I have become more energetic after I get busy."

For a split second I saw suspicion in Butcher's eyes, and even though that fleeting moment left me feeling overwhelmed, I didn't want to continue this stupid subject.But this time he quickly picked up the conversation: "But I think you've been anxious lately, Sue. Has something bad happened?"

"Nothing bad."

"But you are suddenly ill," he said. "Do your hands still shake a lot now?"

Oh, I don't want him to bring this up.I don't want to hear any discussion about what's wrong with me, and, especially Butcher...although it's probably too late, I hope I look better in his eyes, if not as a father image of.

"Do you want me?" I asked him suddenly.

Butcher froze for a moment.It was probably a question he hadn't expected at all, but he answered it quickly.

"No," he said, "you have a bad fever." Then he opened the door and went out to school.It's morning, and it's still early.After he was gone, I still felt such a shame that if I hadn't been so sore and immobile, I would have opened the window and jumped out.I was rejected.Although intellectually knowing that this is not a big deal, it is still difficult to accept.Lie on the bed in shame for a while, trying to get out of bed to pee, then peel off another painkiller in case I have a headache.

The swallowed pill worked quickly, and the rest of the time was spent almost in a coma.By noon the next day at last my fever was gone, and feeling a little weak, but generally well, I hurried to Chicago to explain to one of my clients why I had not shown up at the appointed time; Also had a big fight with my buddy.

"Don't ever sell anything on credit again," I said, "or you'll be rushing for me."

**

Several days passed by the time I found time to go to Sirian's.I remember that it was a Sunday morning when I passed by the mailbox to drop in a letter to be addressed to an anonymous friend, and on that very day I had a little argument with Butcher.

We were having breakfast in the kitchen, and I suddenly remembered what had happened, and I told Butcher about the day the Inspector was buried and someone broke a window in my house and threw a crow through it.

"I also changed a piece of glass," I said, "and you weren't home at the time."

"What?" he said, "the glass in the kitchen is old." Why should you question me on such a small matter?So I got into an argument with him.We then split our opinions and went to look at the kitchen glass, each of which was equally dirty.A new piece of glass wouldn't be so dirty.Seeing such a result, I was suddenly furious.

"Are you trying to say I'm hallucinating, Butcher?"

"No, I didn't mean that."

He clarified quickly.But I feel that he said that because of a compromise.

I felt a little gloomy, and in this gloomy mood I finished what I was doing, and then went to Sirian's house.I knocked once and got no answer so I had to knock harder and knock again.After a while, Cillian came to open the door. He was wearing a very old beige apron, and he was very dirty.

"What's going on here?" I walked into the room and found that he was making wood carvings with our hostages.The dining table was requisitioned as a workbench, and the original empty vases and candlesticks on it were moved to the cabinet, and the tablecloth was also removed. There were many tools, small pieces of wood, and large pieces of wood dust scattered on the bare tabletop.

"It seems that you two get along very well." I picked up a wooden puppy from the table, a rough but vivid gadget.Andy said Cillian did it.I didn't even know Sirian had this craft. "What am I missing?" I asked.

"Suey, it might be dangerous for you to carve wood," Cillian said.I think he was explaining to me why I was never invited to do this.Why does he think I care?

"My hands haven't shaken for a long time," I said. "I quit drinking."

Cillian tilted his head to look at me.

"...Okay, but at least it's better than before." I said, took out the packet of powder that was meant for Andy from my pocket, and threw it at him.But Sirian reached out and stopped it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Don't make trouble, give it to him," I said, "this guy is addicted."

"I know. That's terrible, Andy, learn from Sue." He said, opening the paper bag, letting the powder spill on the ground, and Andy behind him stretched his neck, showing greed and enthusiasm. Regretful look.

"You can quit," Cillian turned to him and said, "life still has to move in the direction of getting back on track."

"Please, what life do I have without freedom?" Andy said.

I found out that he is very good at showing this pitiful pleading look.

"He's right," I said to Cillian.

Cillian looked at me helplessly.Immediately afterwards, Andy said: "I don't mean anything else. It's just that if you often cause you so much trouble like yesterday..."

"Wait a minute," I said, "did something happen between you when I wasn't here that I don't know about?"

The two of them looked at each other, and they almost uniformly showed the expression that they had nothing to say.

"Something very messy," Andy said.

Oh, I hate when people have something that's hidden, and don't tell me, and let me know it exists.Something happened, but it had nothing to do with me, I was left out.But, after all, I don't seem to have much to know.

"...well," I said, to Cillian, "then you have a new friend now. You're not going to let him go, are you?"

Cillian assured me he would not.Of course, I'm just asking casually. I think that until Andy completely reforms and quits his little habit, our sympathetic Cillian will not let him go easily.

I excused something at home, turned around and left.After walking out for a while, there was a sound of trotting footsteps behind him.Cillian caught up with me and asked, "Are you feeling a little unhappy today?"

"What?" I said, "No."

"Do you need... well, maybe I buy you coffee tomorrow?"

"no thank you."

"What's the matter with you, Sue?"

"Come on, Cillian," I said, "there won't be any new bodies anytime soon, and you'll just have to deal with that idiot at home."

Cillian looked confused: "Are you really not angry?"

I looked up at him, those gray eyes still calm and tired, and he looked at me like a rambunctious child.I think this kind of child-like gaze is the most hurtful, almost looking down, as if when I am being watched, I am inferior to him.

"No," I said, "I'm just fucking sick of you."

"...really?" he asked.I didn't take my words back.Then Cillian took a deep look at me, backed away slowly, backed up, then turned and went back.I stood where I was, with my hands in my pockets, watching his back getting smaller and further away, until he completely disappeared from my sight.My heart began to sink again.To be honest, I don't know why I said that just now.

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Tomorrow I will be a college student, how could things be like this...Summer vacation...My summer vacation...