White City Murder Expo

Woke up the next day and the first thing I thought about was I kidnapped Cillian, I kidnapped a cop, oh my god.I think he is different from those patients who are not wanted. He has colleagues. If he doesn't come to work on time, won't others find out?

Thinking of this, I instantly woke up.I'm going to go find him now, make sure he's still there, and figure out what to do.I kept my head down all the way and made a detour to avoid people noticing me.My heart was beating very fast, and I couldn't help imagining a scene in my mind: When I walked near Cillian's house, I saw a man in police uniform holding coffee in his left hand and ringing the doorbell with his right hand. He turned his head and saw me .I sure don't have the guts to say I'm just passing by, and then they'll see something wrong, grab me, and I'm done.

At one point I was so worried that I almost dared not go any further, but nothing actually happened.There is no one visiting Sirian's door. Today is the first day he is absent from work. People will only suddenly think of who is missing from the office during the break; and at least they will not think about it until the second or third day after he disappears. Shouldn't they come to him and see what's the matter; if Cirrian was dead on the first day of his disappearance, when they finally found him, the body would pass over the rigor and become limp, And full of resentment.

I put my ear to the door carefully, but I couldn't hear any movement inside.The sound from the bathroom on the second floor could not be heard so far, but then I was very afraid that there was no movement in it because Cillian had escaped.Will he?If there is a chance... I hurried into the room, pushed open the bathroom door, and saw him sitting in the bathtub, although he noticed me, he didn't turn his head.

"Good morning, Cirrian," I said, for a moment, with great pleasure.

And he just sighed.

I was a little overwhelmed by such a heavy opening, and while I wasn't so whimsical about expecting a contented hostage of happiness, it was a bit of a blow.Immediately afterwards, I comforted myself that this reaction was reasonable from an intellectual point of view. If it was not depressed, the person sitting in the bathtub would not be Cillian.It's just that what I'm about to do next may make the scene even more unpleasant - I've prepared a new rope, a better, softer but stronger rope.I plan to anesthetize Cillian first, and then change the rope after he is completely unconscious. Of course, I am afraid that I will not be able to control him.I explained to him that it would make him less susceptible to mental shock; he obviously didn't want to believe it, almost scoffed.But he didn't think that I could not hide it at all and let the truth reveal its ugly nature.

"I'm going to hate you, Sedus."

He said as I pushed the air out of the needle.Now he doesn't even call me by my name anymore.

"What's your full name?" I asked.

He didn't speak, so I asked again.

"My name is Cillian," said he, "or Cillian, and I am Irish."

This surprised me a bit.Unlike Hunt, Cillian spoke without a particularly noticeable accent.I thought all Irish people had red hair, too, but maybe no one had hair like Hunter, like a fox... Ah, stop that memory.I hate to think of Hunter at this point.After all, why bring up the Irish at all?

"Then what's your name? I haven't known it for so long."

"Tell you, will you let me go?" Cillian asked.

"Oh, sorry," I said.

I always remember the moment when the needle sank into the skin, the melancholy look on Cillian's face broke my heart too.Soon he closed his eyes, I shook him lightly at first, then a little harder, but there was no response; but I still couldn't believe it, afraid that he was pretending to be obedient and waiting for an opportunity to escape.I put the small knife used to cut his rope on his carotid artery, the blade was tightly against the skin, and was slightly concave until a line of blood appeared, his pulse was still very stable, and I knew the medicine was working.So I changed the string as quickly as I could, feeling much relieved that it would make him feel better; then I packed up and went to wash the dishes he had left the night before.I really don't like doing dishes...how about letting Cillian do it in the sink?Again I wondered if this might be being too cruel to him, or just leave it at that.After washing the dishes, I picked out a new suit of clothes for him from the closet, held the clothes and pushed open the bathroom door, sitting aside and watching his sleepy appearance.At this time, Sirian was so docile that he seemed to be dead.I felt obsessively satisfied for a moment, and my heart stopped beating for a while, and I hurried to check his breath, his warm and restless breath was on my fingers.

According to the dosage, Cillian would not wake up for about half an hour.I helped him up to change his clothes, and all the weight of a grown man rested relentlessly on my arms, like a heavy doll at my mercy.I looked at him with greedy eyes that bordered on offense. Cillian was thin, with thinner wrists than mine, pale and unmanly, but I thought he was beautiful.There was a bit of stubble on his chin, which might feel a little prickly to the touch with his fingers; I couldn't help leaning in and kissing him inch by inch, but when I looked up I saw Cillian looking like he didn't know anything. , A burst of strong shame welled up in my heart.

I knew he wouldn't let me do this if he was awake.He would keep dodging and saying, "No." If I wanted something, I could only do it by force.I frantically buttoned him back one by one, trying to put him back the way he was, but nothing was right because I don't remember.I don't know what it was like when he fell, and things never went back to the way they were.

After about half an hour, Cillian woke up slowly.He looked at me, after a long time, and said, "You're crying again. I really don't understand."

Other than that, he never said anything to me that day.

**

To Deputy Inspector Richard:

Because my mother is seriously ill, I need to ask for leave for a period of time, and the return date is undecided

There was a pause in the sound of the typewriter.

Is this written in accordance with the rules?I thought about it, changed the paper, and started writing again: To Deputy Inspector Richard...

That's probably my strategy.In order not to attract probing, I will write a note for Cillian.Because my handwriting is different from his, I can't think of any way to make him write these contents in his own hand, but fortunately there are typewriters, and the words typed by the machine will always be the same.After writing it, I deliberately went to the post office in Chicago to deliver it. If there is no accident, it will be delivered to the police station in the small town soon.

In fact, this is not foolproof.If his colleagues come to knock on the door, whether I am there or not, things are likely to slide to an ending that is beyond my control. I can't kill the policeman. If any policeman disappears on the way to find Cillian, it will only Bring in more police.I can only bet that Cillian is not on close terms with his colleagues, and they read the letter and don't pursue it further.

Strange even to myself, I was betting right.Cillian's face became more and more ugly day by day. In the first few days, he managed to remain patient and tried not to confront me, but as time passed, he gradually became agitated, and he was confused why no one had come to look for him.Sometimes I feel good about myself and want to gloat and say to him, "No one seems to think of you." But in the end, reason prevailed.I won't tell him what I've done in his name, it'll only make him hate me even more.I'm not sure if he did anything to save himself while I was away, like calling for help, but it's clear that at least so far it hasn't worked.I've removed everything that could break in the bathroom ahead of time, and I've bolted up the windows tightly. Cillian's little farm is so remote, with no neighbors, that no one will hear him shout.

Sometimes Cillian sits in the bathtub lost in thought, frowning, looking sad and lonely.His appetite also dropped, and the breakfast was placed at his feet, but he didn't even look at it, and sometimes it remained the same at night.I don't know what to do, I feel a headache.Raising a human is much more difficult than I imagined.

Because of the new business expansion, I have to work for at least a year for that kind of long-term order. The guy is very unhappy that I push everything to him. Therefore, I have been running around every day recently. , going home at night, but facing Butcher's increasingly suspicious eyes, and he was also frustrated everywhere in Cillian.I wanted to have sex with him, like before, but no matter how much I tried to soothe him, he didn't get hard, and I even made it clear that I felt sick when I tried to kiss him.After hearing this, I was so shocked that I almost ran away; before I came the next day, I took a shower, shaved off my beard, and changed into new clothes. I could smell soap horn and pine needles from myself The smell of water, but Cillian's evaluation still did not change - only for a moment, when he first saw that I had seriously dressed up for him, there was a look of absurdity and pity in his eyes.

There is no one more ridiculous in the world than I am, but I still want to please him.So he brought a book to read to him, and Cillian didn't like the long landscape descriptions of English authors, and he fell asleep listening to it.Later, I tried some other books. This person is really strange. Among so many books, his favorite is a French recipe, which clearly marks the amount of each ingredient like a chemical experiment. .

"Do you remember?" I asked.

"I like numbers," he said, "and now that I have a lot of time, maybe I can do it myself."

The kitchen is on the first floor, far from the bathroom, and I can't let him pass.But the moment was really good and I didn't want to spoil it, so I didn't say anything.Still, acutely aware of his rejection, he gave a self-deprecating laugh and fell silent again.It was depressing to be in the same room with this kind of silence. I excused myself to make lunch and left for a while. When I came back, I could clearly hear the whimpering inside through the door.I waited outside with my tray, because I thought it would be embarrassing to open the door at this time, but I didn't know how long I would have to wait.

I went to visit Cillian every day, trying to come and cook him something to eat. During this time, I gradually deduced his preferences. Cillian liked simple food, just like his life.In addition, I bring him a new book every two days, and now he likes to read travel notes, I am a little worried that this will make it easier for him to think of something related to freedom.Cillian assured me no, he was just afraid of being alone.

During this time, Cillian became much easier to get along with. I thought that the relationship between the two of us could be more harmonious, until one day I accidentally discovered that nearly half of the rope on Cillian's feet had been worn away.

"What's going on here?" I asked.

He was in disarray from the moment he was discovered.I didn't say much, gave him an injection, changed the rope again, and changed it back to the original one - if he wants to make trouble for me, I can't care about whether it will grind my feet or not.Then I searched carefully on Ting and his surroundings, and found a blunt piece of iron hidden in his pocket.No wonder his palms turned red, it turned out he was doing this.I picked up the iron sheet, and when he woke up, I shook it in front of him.

"How did you find this?" I asked.

"Under the bathtub."

"Ah," I said, "explorer."