Super Trick or Treat System

He knew she could talk about pigs, but she stopped.

She looked back at the report and said, "Those poor animals on the farm."

"Spent time on the farm?"

She lied: "There are no other boys." "None of them likes farm work, but it's part of the job rotation. Mixing up work is not a pleasant career. I can attest to it. a little."

The lie he knew prevented Redman from letting Lacey keep the final details: Hennessy's death happened in a pigpen.

He shrugged and took a completely different approach.

"Is Lacey taking medicine?"

"Some tranquilizers."

"Do boys always calm down when fighting?"

"Only they managed to escape. We don't have enough personnel to supervise people like Lacey. I don't understand why you are so worried."

"I want him to trust me. I promised him. I don't want him to disappoint."

"Frankly speaking, all these sound like special plea. This boy is one of them. There are no unique problems and no special hope of redemption."

"Redemption?" This is a strange word.

"Rehabilitation, whatever you choose to call it. Redman, I will say frankly. In general, you are not really playing ball here."

"Oh?"

"We all believe that, including the Governor, we should let us conduct our business as usual. Learn the rope before we start-"

"interference."

She nodded. "This sentence is great. You are making enemies."

"Thank you for your warning."

"There are no enemies, this job is difficult enough, trust me."

The way she tried to reconcile, Redman ignored.

He can stand the enemy, he can't lie to the liar.

The Governor's room was locked, as if it had been a whole week. The interpretation of where he is is different. Meetings with funding agencies were one of the staff’s favorite reasons, even though the secretary claimed that she did not fully know. Some people say that he is holding a seminar in the university to conduct some research on the issue of the return center. The Governor may be one of them. If Mr. Redman wants, he can leave a message and the Governor will be notified.

Back in the workshop, Lacey was waiting for him. It's almost 7:15: the course is over. "What are you doing here?"

"Wait, sir."

"What do you do?"

"You, sir. I want to send you a letter, sir. For me, mother. Can you give it to her?"

"You can send it through regular channels, right? Give it to the secretary and she will forward it to you. You can receive two letters a week."

Lacey's face fell off.

"They read these, sir: In case you write something that shouldn't be written, if you do, they will burn them." "And you wrote something that you shouldn't write?"

He nodded.

"what?"

"About Kevin. I told her everything about Kevin, about what happened to him."

"I'm not sure if you understand the facts."

The boy shrugged. "It's true, sir." He said quietly, obviously no longer caring whether he persuaded Redman. "Yes. He is there, sir. In her."

"In who? What are you talking about?"

Like Leffertal suggested, maybe Lacey spoke out of fear. His patience with boys must be limited, nothing more.

Knocking on the door, a jagged man named Slapp was staring at him through the wired glass. "come in."

"Sir, you need an emergency call. It's in the secretary's office."

Redman hated the phone. The machine is not tasty: it has never brought good news.

"Urgent. Who's here?"

She shrugged and raised her face.

"Stay in Lacey, okay?"

Not satisfied with this prospect.

"Sir, is this?" he asked.

"Here."

"Yes, sir."

"I rely on you, so don't let me down."

"No, sir."

Redman turned to Lacey. When he was crying, the bruised expression was an open wound.

"Give me your letter. I took it to the office."

Lacey stuffed the envelope into his pocket. He reluctantly retrieved it and gave it to Redman. "Say thank you."

"thank you, sir."

The corridor is empty.

It was TV time, and the night worship of the box had begun. They will be glued to the black and white background that dominates the entertainment room, open their mouths, close their heads, and sit in police performances, game performances and world wars. The hypnotic silence will fall on the assembled company until it promises violence or a touch of gender. Then, whistles would blow in the room, and the sound of foulness and encouragement erupted, and during the conversation, they were waiting for another gun and the other gun fell silent again. Even now, he can still hear gunshots and music, echoing in the corridor.

The office is open, but the secretary is not there. I must have gone home. The clock in the office said eight:19. Redman modified his watch.

The phone hung up. Whoever called him, he was tired of waiting and there was no news. Because he felt that the call was not urgent enough to keep the caller's conversation status, he now breathes a sigh of relief. He is now very disappointed and cannot talk to the outside world. It was like Crusoe saw the sail, just let the sail sweep over his island.

Ridiculous: This is not his prison. He can go out at any time. He would go out that night: Crusoe no longer.

He planned to leave Lacey's letter on the table, but he considered it better. He had promised to protect the interests of the boy and would do it. If necessary, he will mail the letter in person.

Especially without expecting anything, he began to return to the studio. The vagueness enveloped in anxiety blocked his reaction. Sigh sitting on his throat, frowning. He said loudly, this **** place is not the wall and floor, but the trap they represent. He feels that he can die here, his kind intention is like bunches of flowers hardly arranged around him, no one knows, cares or mourns. Idealism here is weakness, compassion and indulgence. All upset: upset and-silence.

That is wrong. Although the TV still popped up and screamed in the hallway, there was silence. No wolf whistle, no meows.

Redman flew back to the lobby and walked down the corridor to the recreation room. Smoking is allowed in this part of the building, and cigarettes in this area are old. In the future, the chaotic voice will continue. A woman screamed someone's name. One person answered, interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Half of the story hangs in the air.

He reached the room and opened the door.

The TV spoke to him. "Come down!"

"He has a gun!"

Another shot.

The blond woman, with big breasts, put the bullet in her heart, and died on the sidewalk next to the man she loved. The tragedy received no attention. The entertainment room is empty, and old armchairs and graffiti carved stools are placed around the TV for audiences who entertain at night. Redman walked between the seats and turned off the TV. When the silver-blue fluorescence disappeared and the continuous music beat was cut off, he was in the dim, quietly aware of someone at the door.

"who is that?"

"Sir, sir."

"I tell you to stay in Lacey."

"He must go, sir."

"go?"

"He ran away, sir. I can't stop him."

"Damn it. What do you mean, you can't stop him?"

Redman began to walk through the room again, stepping on the stool. It was scratched on the linoleum, a little protest.

Tap and twitch.

"I'm sorry, sir." He said, "I can't catch him. My feet are not good."

Yes, it's limp. "Which way is he going?" Pat shrugged. "Not sure, sir."

"Okay, remember."

"Sir, don't lose your temper."

"Sir" is slurred: a respect for imitation. Redman found that his hands were itchy to hit this pus-filled puberty. He is within a few feet of the door. Slep didn't move away.

"Block me."

"Really, sir, you can't help him now. He's gone."

"I said, I can't stop it."

When he stepped forward and pushed it aside, there was a click in his belly button, and the **** pressed a scalpel against his belly. This made his belly fat.

"Sir, there is really no need to follow him."

"What are you doing in the name of God?"

He said: "We are just playing games."

"There is no real harm in it. It's best to leave it alone."

The tip of the knife has already drawn blood. Enthusiastically, it walked towards Redman's groin. Slep was about to kill him. no doubt. No matter what this game is, I have a great time playing it myself. Kill the teacher, someone called. The knife was still pressed through Redman's flesh wall indefinitely slowly. Little blood flowed into a stream.

"Kevin likes to hang out occasionally," Slep said.

"?"

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