Tang Huan kept pressing his saliva against the sealant with his tongue, and the feeling of being forced to close his lips slowly became less intense. There was a sound of footsteps outside the door, and she immediately lay down gently, motionless.
The man walked in slowly, sat at the table, picked up the pen and began to draw. Tang Huan still lay motionless in place. She estimated in her heart the length of time a man would go out each time.
She has found a pattern.
The man kept drawing on the painting, the spring flowers were blooming outside the window, and the butterflies were flying, but what the woman saw was gray and lifeless. She is holding a water glass in one hand, and there are many pills in the palm of her hand.
Beside the woman, there are also hands, a pair of hands that can't see the body. After finishing the painting, he glanced behind him a few times and walked to the bed with the painting.
Tang Huan remained motionless. He tilted his head and glanced at the painting, setting aside the painting. Among those who reached out to pinch her, she quietly opened her eyes that lost her lustre.
"Water" her voice was very small, but it was enough for him to hear. He took a glass of water, pulled off her sealant, and handed it over. Tang Huan writhed, but still didn't have the strength to sit up, the man reached out and helped him up. In this state, it is easy for people to think that the man in front of him is not bad. She took a few sips, her voice was weak: "If it wasn't for you to tie me... if it wasn't for those picture albums, I would still think you...are the person from before."
The man looked at her with a gentle gaze, "I used to be that person. It's just that you don't know enough about me."
Tang Huan glanced at the picture album in his hand: "Whose one are you going to talk about today?"
Man: "Your time is running out, so you still care about it?"
Tang Huan laughed twice: "Anyway, you are about to die. Anyway, you have no new people to share."
The man put the cup at her feet and opened the picture album: "Gong Le, she is the first person I helped." When he said, his eyes were smiling, but Tang Huan's whole body was cold.
Tang Huan: "She is only nine years old..."
The man laughed, and the arc of the big mask followed his laugh. "It's good to be nine years old. For her, one more day in this world, one more day of suffering."
Tang Huan looked at the picture album. The girl was lying on her hips, with blood flowing in her cut wrists. She couldn't tell how she felt right now. She only felt that her eyes were sore and unbearable, she couldn't swallow her breath and couldn't get up .
"The method of death you gave her was too cruel!" Tang Huan turned his head, not wanting to look at the scene again.
The man stretched out his hand and stroked the scene little by little: "Cruel, her parents either quarreled or fought, but pretended to be kind in front of her. This is cruel. Only pain can make her not think about those pictures."
Tang Huan felt that it was not a human being in front of him, but a demon with blood on his hands. She wanted to move back a bit, but there was no distance to go back, and she couldn't go back.
"She didn't commit suicide, did she?" Although she was terribly afraid, she still asked.
The man hummed: "Perhaps you are right, I shouldn't do it to you. But really, I think you are very interesting. If conditions permit, maybe I will stay with you for a few more days. No, she didn't do it herself. Yes, after she entered the room that night, her parents were playing hard outside. I went in through the window and they didn't notice it at all..."
"you!"
"You see if she is better to die than to be alive. Are you curious about why she doesn't yell or yell, how did you come here with me, she is so behaved."
Tang Huan didn't want to look at him anymore, burying his head on his knees.
(End of this chapter)