Super Trick or Treat System

"Yes, but it's not a fashion for her. She is passionate about it. She can't even bear to look at the butcher's window. She doesn't touch meat, she doesn't smell meat-"

"Oh." Steve was frustrated. Where is this leader?

"Fear, Steve."

"Eating meat?"

"Everyone's physical signs are different. She is afraid of eating meat. She said she is healthy and well balanced. Damn! I will find out-" "Find what?"

"Fear, Steve."

"Are you not going to...?" Steve didn't know how to express his anxiety without making any accusations. "Hug her?" Quaid said. "No, I will not harm her in any way. Any harm caused to her will be entirely self-inflicted."

Quaid stared at him almost hypnotically. "It's time for us to learn to trust each other," Quaid continued. He leaned closer. "Between the two of us-"

"Listen, I don't think I want to listen."

"We have to touch the beast, Stephen."

"Damn beast! I don't want to hear it!"

Steve stood up, not only breaking the suppression of Quaid's gaze, but also ending the conversation.

"We are friends, Stephen."

"Yes…"

"Then respect that."

"what?"

"Silence. Don't say a word."

Steve nodded. Keeping promises is not difficult. No one of him can tell his anxiety without being ridiculed.

Quaid looked satisfied. He left in a hurry, making him feel unwilling to join a secret society, for what purpose he couldn't start talking. Quaid signed a contract with him, which is disturbing. In the following week, he cut all lectures and most seminars. Notes are not copied, books are not read, articles are not written. Both times he actually entered the university building, crawling like a cautious mouse, praying that he would not conflict with it.

He need not worry. Once he did see the bent shoulders crossing the quadrilateral, he participated in the smile communication with. She laughed musically, and her joy echoed on the walls of the history department. Jealousy made Steve leave completely. Being so close, so close to him, he won't get paid.

The time he spends alone is away from the bustling speeches and long corridors, which gives Steve time to his mind. His thoughts went from tongue to teeth, nails to knots, and returned to his fear.

The same is true for his childhood.

When he was six, Steve was hit by a car. The injury was not particularly serious, but the concussion made him partially deaf. For him, this was an extremely painful experience. I don't understand why he was suddenly cut off from the world. It was an inexplicable torture, and the child thought it was eternal.

His life is really a moment, full of shouts and laughter. The next one he was cut off, and the outside world became an aquarium, with fish everywhere and weird smiles. To make matters worse, sometimes he suffered from tinnitus as the doctor said, and a hoarse or loud sound came from his ears. His head was filled with the weirdest sounds, such as howling and howling, which acted as sound effects on the outside world. At that time, his belly will move, a bunch of iron will wrap around his forehead, shatter his thoughts into pieces, separate the head from the hands, and separate the intention from practice. He will be driven away in panic, completely unable to understand the world, yet his head is shaking.

But at night, the most terrible terror came. Sometimes, he would wake up before the accident in the womb in the safe bedroom and find that his sleep started to sound.

His eyes jumped sharply. His body is sweating. His mind was full of the most absurd hustle and bustle, he was locked tightly, there was no suspense. Nothing can silence his head, and it seems that nothing can bring this world, the world of talking, laughing, and crying back to him.

He is alone.

That is the beginning, middle and end of fear. He is definitely a lonely person. Locked in this house, in this room, in this body, in this head, is a deaf-mute prisoner.

This is simply unbearable. At night, the boy would cry sometimes, not knowing what sound he was making, and the fish that used to be his parents would turn on the light and try to help him, bend down on the bed and make a grimace, the silent mouth shape is ugly. Their help helps. Their touch finally calmed him. As time passed, his mother learned the technique to soothe the panic that swept him.

A week before his seventh birthday, his hearing recovered, although not perfect, it was enough to make it look like a miracle. The world became the focus again. Life starts again.

It took the boy several months to trust his senses again. He would still wake up at night, half asleep and half awake.

However, although his ears will ring at the minimum volume, which prevents a rock concert with other students, he has hardly noticed his slight deafness now.

Of course he remembers. well. He can bring back his panic. The feeling of an iron fist wrapped around his head. Fear remained there. Dark and lonely.

But then, isn't everyone afraid of one person? Completely alone.

Steve now has another fear, and it is much harder to solve this difficulty.

Yes

In a drunken revelation, he told Quayd about childhood, deafness and night terror. Quaid knew his weakness: a clear path to Steve's heart of fear. He has weapons and can defeat Steve with a stick, if any. Maybe that's why he chose not to warn her with talking, is that what he wants to do? , Of course this is why he avoided it.

This person looks malicious in a way. more or less. He looks like a deeply malicious person.

Maybe those four months made people look at the voice rejected, which made Steve aware of the tiny eyes, sneers and smiles that came to his face. He knew that Quaid's life was a maze. A thousand little emojis are engraved on a complicated map of his face.

The next stage of the secret world that Steve entered is nearly three and a half months away. The university took a summer vacation, and the students kept on going. Steve is on vacation as usual in his father's printing shop. It was a long time, and the body was very tired, but it was an undeniable relief for him. Having enriched his thoughts, he found it difficult to speak and think. The printed works quickly engrossed him and cleared the confusion in his mind.

It was a good time: he hardly thought of it.

He returned to campus in late September. The students are still very thin. Most classes didn't start in another week; the whole place was full of melancholy, without the usual complaints, flirting, and quarreling children.

Steve was in the library and flipped through a few important books before he started working on the other books in his course. At the beginning of the semester, the books are pure gold, and the reading list needs to be checked. The university bookstore always claims that the titles of the must-buy books have been ordered. They will always arrive at the important books the day after discussing the authors’ seminar. In the last year, Steve was determined to be ahead of several seminal books owned by the library.

The familiar voice spoke.

"Go to work early."

Steve looked up to see Quaid's needle pierced his eyes.

"I am very impressed, Steve."

"What is it for?"

"Your passion for this job."

"Oh."

Quaid smiled. "What are you looking for?"

"Bentham's business."

"I have "ethics and legislative principles." Is it okay?"

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