Magic Notes

Chapter 120: The Messenger of Death (11)

Views:

Seeing my bruise, she was taken aback. "Before you ask, no, you are not a weird person. Yes, I think you are beautiful. She hurt you and it makes me feel uneasy."

"We do this often, right?" I asked.

When she checked the water temperature, she smiled patiently and stretched her fingers to the surface of the water. She added a bubble bath and let the faucet continue to flow until the foam became foamy, white and foamy.

Even after each of my muscles was relaxed, one after another, I couldn't help but frown.

Allie put a bubble on my nose. "Don't worry, okay. Everything will be resolved."

"Yes, I will solve it. In prison. Or in the jīng god hospital." I exhaled, and a cloud of bubbles flew out of my face.

She raised her eyebrows. "Why is it a jīng god hospital?"

"They used us and threw us into the jīng god hospital. Isn't that the case?" And there are good reasons, because something is wrong with me.

She foamed a piece of laundry. "I gave Garrison the file we had. We hope he has the wisdom to figure out what went wrong, we have no other choice."

"If he doesn't do this, I will have to pay $100,000. I don't have that much money unless I sell the house. If I do, where do we live? Winston is spoiled and cannot be on the street Messing around."

Allie found my hand under the water. "Listen to me. Everything will be fine. If the worst happens, you will sell your house and pay your fine. You can buy another house. You can survive in jail. Both scenarios It's not the end of the world, nor your life. You know I won't let Winston happen."

It is difficult for me to concentrate on any topic, because of the pulsation and pain in my neck, it is difficult for me to concentrate on anything. I stared at the spotted white ceiling and heating vents. In the past few days, I have been thinking about specific things in my mind.

"I want to know what happened," she said, using a small brush to scrub the blood from the cracks of my nails. "The paperwork is real, even if we don't know where it came from."

"Why is Garrison interested in Rachel?" I asked.

"You never mentioned Rachel."

I took a deep breath. I hate talking about Rachel, but since this is important to FBRD, it must be related to my situation, right? Allie is smarter than me. Maybe she can find some connections I missed.

"When I first partnered with Brinkley, we were working in St. Louis. Rachel was my mentor and another accusation from Brinkley."

"What's up with her?"

"After changing clothes, I went to her house and gave her a big bag of fudge. I knocked on her door fifty times and she did not answer, so I was very worried. I walked in and found her in the living room, sitting on her In his own blood circle.

Allie took a deep breath. "She committed suicide?"

"No," I said. "She just chopped off her arms and hands. Then she used her blood to draw a circle around herself, which she called a protective circle."

"Did you take the knife away from her?"

"I tried my best. I asked her what was wrong and tried to get her to talk to me, but she kept saying that angels told her what to do and she must protect herself from bad angels."

"Wait, what happened to that knife?" Allie asked, then poured shampoo on my hair.

"She sat on the floor of the living room, mumbling about these crazy things. Then she looked up at me and her eyes became big—as if she didn’t look crazy enough, covered in blood. She began to point her head. Call, it's you. You."

"What did you do?" Allie asked, her hand still in my hair.

"I also screamed because this naked girl, brandishing a knife, tried to catch me. I was ready to leave there, but I dropped the gummies on the ground and the bag was opened. Now, I slid on the floor like a cartoon character. Then Brinkley appeared and saved the world."

Allie took a breath. "How does he know you are in trouble?"

"He was in the car. He heard me screaming and ran over. When he pulled her away from me, she kept screaming, "She is from him. She comes from him. "

"Strange," Allie said.

"They accused her of the number of death replacements she did, saying that 00 people would definitely make her crazy. After she was sent to the jīng holy hospital, Brinkley said we need to leave St. Louis. This city is too dangerous. My big Some of the replacements are gun violence. Unlike here, suffocation on fried chicken bones is more common than finding a muzzle on your head."

My thoughts were overwhelmed, and Allie gently hugged me back. "That won't happen to you."

I looked up at her face.

"You won't go crazy, Fan Fan," she said. "We are very careful."

"Yes, we are very careful. Someone almost cut off my head." Rachel's loss intensified in my chest. I changed the direction of the conversation so that I could bear it. "In fact, we almost moved to Atlanta. He has rented my office and signed my apartment lease, but Brinkley chose Nashville at the last minute."

"Did he say why?" she asked.

"It's too hot and the traffic is too heavy." Talking about him made the burn in my throat higher and higher-Brinkley, where are you

Allie's eyes were recognized. "I looked up at Atlanta in the car. Eight agents who replaced the dead were killed there."

"What?" I asked. Eight agents were killed? Brinkley

Why don't you say something? Why doesn't he tell me to be careful, what NRD serial killer do we have at large

She said: "On the Internet, an anonymous caller disclosed the news to the Atlanta media," she said. "But this is all it says."

I slid into the bathtub so Ally could rinse off the shampoo from my hair and then wet the gauze. It is hell to tear the dry yarn wrapped around the wound. Once it was soaked, Ellie took it off with soft fingers.

"Why does the bureau conceal the fact that the death substitute agent was murdered?" I asked. Why does my contact leave me alone-if it is still happening-unsuspecting

"Obviously, this is not an accidental isolated incident," Allie said, turning around and tossing the wet pink gauze into the trash can. "Other things are happening."

Chapter 7

"How are you today, Fan Fan?" Hewin asked. Due to the angle of the light overhead, Hvin was just a shadow in the corner, and a hollow voice came from a distance.

"In pain," I said. I was slow to take the medication and wanted another medicine eagerly, and Allie let me take it after the treatment. She said that if I took drugs, my appointment would not go smoothly. I reminded her that Hvin saw that my situation was worse. Before I woke up from the death, I had completed the mandatory evaluation of the gods, the body was distorted, bloody, and looked like a zombie. Despite this, she refused to give in and gave me some nonsense about herself because I was under investigation.

Hvin was wearing the only suit I have ever seen, his brown tweed suit matching his brown office. Except for the walls and floors, the brown sè, brown sè, and brown sè are all brown sè, except for the walls and the floor, they are the same as other parts of the hospital. It gave me the impression of an air-raid shelter or bunker, similarly submerged in water, which is frustrating.

I sat in a chair full of things, and that chair made me feel very small--this is another trick to trick my neglected inner child? The big chair makes me want to cry. It’s not that I don’t have anything to cry. For example, you can be someone’s bitch in one court session.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" he asked.

Yes, I think. Let Brinkley call me. How hard is it to answer a call

I let my head rest on the mat. "Please go on."

He nodded and drew a stack of cards from the table. "Look at these and tell me what you saw."

"Yes, yes." I waved and urged him. "A black bird"

"what about this?"

"A black dog," I said.

"what about this?"

"Two seals ** on the rocky beach."

"Very good," he said.

There are only one million cards left.

"My dog Winston, but he is missing a leg."

"what about this?"

I haven't seen anything, but you can't say anything, at least when you pretend to be sane. So I chose the next best thing-realism in disguise. "A puddle of oil left by a dilapidated car"

He put the cards in an even pile of paper and knocked them on the table.

"How am I doing?" I asked.

"Very good," he said. He motioned to the sofa. "If you can stretch, please."

I dragged my body out of the chair with difficulty and lay on the sofa for a long time. I was as comfortable as possible, despite the rough brown tweed decoration and the sticky gauze wrapped around my neck. Once I was settled, Hvin moved the chair closer, took out the pointer light, and placed it in my eyes. The light in the warm room softened, making the indicator light look like a searchlight, flooding into my skull.

"Follow the light, Fan Fan."

The longer I stare at the light, the more relaxed I am. I walked away, and without knowing it, Hvin stepped out of the chair and exchanged the light of the pointer for the soft glow of the light. He gave me a tissue, and I had to sit up and wipe the water from my eyes.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked.

"Tired and sour." My eyes closed under the tissue. After a slight test, they are always drunk. I never knew what the light test was for. Another therapist said that this is a kind of hypnotism to observe whether we remember anything except the grave-a metaphorical statement.

"Sit down, let me check your blood test." (to be continued) (end of this chapter)