White City Murder Expo

I had a dream of being caught by an octopus.When I was half asleep and half awake the next morning, I lay on my side, the feeling of being suppressed all the time still persisted, and something was pressing against the heel of my leg.Clothes are pushed up to my chest and a hand is on my skin, a man's hand.

"Sue," he said, over and over.This guy called my name with a hot voice.I'm dreaming again, but I don't know why it's like this.I haven't done it for a long time, if only he was not a man but my ex-wife, I suddenly remembered that I had almost forgotten what she looked like.

Maybe I called her name in a trance, but the man stopped suddenly, turned my face, and asked:

"Who are you calling?"

"Matilda..."

"No, no."

So whose name should I call?He strangled me, but I insisted, Matilda, Matilda, Matilda.I was born to a child by a woman who was almost as tall as I was, and I remember her long skirts and the arrogance she gave me when she beat me up.

"You're making me angry, Sue." His hand gradually tightened, and I began to be a little out of breath, and I could clearly feel the pulse tremor when the blood flowed.Soon, I won't call Matilda or any woman's name, anyone will do, and I can learn the pronunciation of any name if he lets go.

The lack of oxygen became more and more obvious. I really couldn't breathe. I struggled desperately, but like a captured prey, I kicked my legs in vain without hurting anyone.

"Help...please..."

Just when I thought I was about to suffocate to death, suddenly, air rushed into my nose and mouth, and he let go of his hand, but left a clammy, sticky feeling between my legs.

If this is a dream, I don't know why someone wants to humiliate me even for dreaming?I was gasping for breath in the aftertaste of suffocation, my cheeks were hot and my mind went blank.

As soon as the weight around him lightened, he got up and left.After my breathing and palpitations subsided, I realized that my condition was like a used and abandoned object.No one will hear me cough, no one will pity me, whether I need it or not.

It took me a long time to get out of that limp state, wet as if spit out by some monster.I don't know why I didn't resist.In any case, the instigator had already left. After a while, the place where he lay would return to normal temperature, and after a while, the depression of the mattress would return to normal.It always takes me a long time to make up my mind to say no, and even my own son sometimes resents my indecision.I know that my character, like my life, is hopeless, and will just keep getting soaked in alcohol, and eventually become a sad, ugly monster, pushed ashore by the tide.

Between this upside-down dream and reality, I was the only one who felt sorry for myself.I thought of the many trivial things I saw when I was a doctor but stayed in my memory, the stagnant water soaking the dentures, the shoddy wigs, denatured alcohol and the self-pity of medical students about their hopeless future, and every day I looked in the mirror In the end, I couldn't get my own forgiveness for the hideous face I saw.

I surrendered early, who at my age is still stubbornly unwilling to compromise?To half a glass of stinking water, high-temperature wires, failed exam papers and empty pockets, to the life of ordinary people who can see the end at a glance?What is the meaning of living in the world, I have never been able to understand.I've spent half my life waiting for a passionate kiss, but things don't always go my way and I start expecting something else later.When the Russian roulette smashes my head one in six times, I fall to the ground like a glass tank smashed on the ground, and the goldfish leak out of it, and they die quickly.

I raised my hand to touch the still hot part of my neck, and tentatively exerted force - it was also the tiger's mouth that squeezed the Adam's apple inward, as if it didn't feel the same way.I can't give myself fear and uncertainty.My hands tightened, ignoring the pain in my neck bone and the swollen, congested face.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist and separated my fingers one by one.

He went and came back.I suddenly had an urge to cry and hug him.

He said, "You can't do that, Sue. Only I can do that to you."

He carelessly rubbed my neck with his fingertips, maybe he will pinch me again in the next second and maybe give me an unexpected kiss.

Throughout the whole process, I was manipulated by him like a cotton puppet.I tried to open my eyes many times, but the eyelids were too heavy to lift.I dread every unforeseen contact and he walks away again, I hate this conflicting feeling, shouldn't I push him away? ...

"Why are you crying?" He said, kissing the corner of my eye, "It's not time to cry yet."

I don't know what this sentence means, but I hooked the corner of his clothes when he got up again.He paused.

"Let go," he said. "Good night, Sue."