They stopped talking and I heard, "Hey, bitch, come back!" Bitch. jì female. Kelly. tramp. In his vague speech, this was the only word I could understand, because his fist hit my face, the blow from my forehead hurt his knuckles, and my blood mixed with his. Together. He hates me. Hate me for certain things, but I don't know why. He hadn't even seen me before today, but he knew my name. I am not a female either.
One of the gang members suddenly rushed in my direction from his position. When he ran over, I brought the pepper spray in front of me and shook my head at a crazy woman. My hand dropped slowly, and I heard, "Hey, did you see it? She almost hit Joe!" Then came ridicule and sarcasm. I turned around and saw Joe yelling at his running dog, bitch. Then, I noticed that I passed my bus stop half a block, on the wrong side of the street.
As I walked back, I heard a cat yelling in my direction from a passing car—a brand new ivory Mercedes SUV. The car stopped in front of me, and I stopped immediately—my heart couldn't stand it anymore. I decided to become a moving target instead of a static target, so I accelerated and stepped up to the bus station and its regular station. If someone jumps out of the car and grabs me, they can be my witness.
The door opened, and a familiar leg came out: Caijie's leg.
"Hey, do you want to take a ride? Or do you want to ride the smelly bus with the lunatics in Chicago?" she yelled.
I looked at her, tears started to flow from my eyes. I raised my hand to my face and she ran towards me. Seeing Amber’s pure comfort, mixed with too much adrenaline from physical harm, I couldn’t control my emotions.
"Oh, Kelly! "Dear" I caught Russell when she climbed over the steering wheel to help. Amber said softly, "She's fine, Russell, thank you. We just need some privacy. "He turned around and walked towards the car. She pulled the tear-soaked hair away from my face." Kelly, you have to control yourself. I want to call your mother. "
"No!" I cut it off suddenly.
Amber just stood, putting his hand on my arm. "Let us take you to work."
When I climbed into the car and glanced at the people who were still waiting for the bus, I realized that I might become a deportee, a soul abandoned in that sanctuary, from now on—the crazy one , Emotionally burdened, and a girl who is afraid of her own shadow.
Amber turned to face me. "Look, isn't this better than sitting in a seat where others might have peeed?" Her language skills are really great.
The car is absolutely gorgeous, with its rice sè leather and all-wood accents. It is flawless and scented. The smell is so familiar—I can’t pinpoint it, but it awakens my imagination about my mother and her incense burner.
Of course, Caijie has run the radio, because her favorite song is playing, one about some West Country dude whose heart ran him, his best friend’s semi-trailer ran it, or maybe his dog Buried it—something like that.
"I believe that Dave Matthews will make a better sound through these amazing speakers," I said. Russell understood, because he laughed, and then Amber punched him in the arm. "So why give special treatment?" I asked, picking up myself, and wiping away my brief collapse and tears on my face.
"Just because you have a great best friend, that's all." Amber smiled secretly while putting on lipstick, and I saw her staring at me through the mirror. "Hey, did your mother tell you that I went to see her yesterday?"
She saw my puzzled expression through the mirror. "Yes?"
"Yes," she said, "and Russell. She just loves him. They seem to get in touch soon." She smiled at Russell, and then added, "She's glad I found love "I turned my eyes behind them, and I saw her gritted her teeth. "Give up, Kelly. I'm not in the mood to listen to your righteous words." She continued to put on makeup, not even looking at my images.
I sit and feel sad. Russell then added, "Really, Amber?" He looked at me in the rearview mirror and said, "She was a bit grumpy this morning. Please forgive her. Starbucks didn't have her favorite syrup this morning."
Do you already know her favorite syrup? I know her favorite syrup. I became upset, so I hit him in the throat. "Amber, I believe you called Russell to get him a ride early this morning, or did he happen to be in a convenient place? Huh?"
They all blushed. Great—I'm on the point. I can respond to your attitude easily. For Russell, I decided to change the subject.
"Thank you for driving me, Russell," I said.
"Waiting at any time!" he replied cheerfully.
We arrived at our destination, and I thank Russell again. Caijie gave him her own "thank you" and mine, what is "thank you". This time it was my turn to blush. As we walked to the door, Russell got out of his car and called me back.
"My grandfather is really a great man, he deserves your utmost respect," he whispered. "Oh, he also hates people not keeping dinner dates." Then he got in the car and blinked at me while I was standing, and I was stunned.
As we walked to the elevator, Amber asked, "What?" She missed the whole thing, but she knew me well.
Throughout the weekend, I have been pushing the promise to Gunthreon in my mind, but now I realize that I must go back for dinner today. But I cheered up and smiled at Amber. "Russell and Amber are sitting on the tree," I sang. I couldn't help laughing. She threw the key card to me and I laughed too.
We got into the elevator. "Russell is different from the other men I have dated," Amber said. "I only knew him for a weekend, and I think there is more contact with him than with anyone—except for the current company."
"Be careful, understand?" I thought of Gunthreon's strange encounter with us. The fact that Russell was his grandson reminded me of the suspenseful novel plot to portray innocent people. But when I focus on the thoughts of Russell and Gunthreon, and on the feelings I get from them, any thoughts of conspiracy will disappear. They feel good to me-no matter how important it is.
Amber said, "I'll be careful. No matter what you think, I've always been."
"Don't break his heart," I joked. "I want to borrow his Mercedes one day." I smiled and walked out of the elevator and pushed her to the office.
I stopped in the kitchen, made some tea, and then stuffed a stale doughnut hole in my mouth. Then come one more—good luck for two people. Wait, three is a spell. It doesn't hurt to do it again.
I walked towards my office, still chewing slowly, saying hello a few times, and finally settled down. I'm tired and feel it must be a long day, but I am attacking my email enthusiasm anyway. Let's see which of the forwarded messages from my friends have been "quarantined" by our IT staff today.
When I reached the last two o'clock, I felt a drowsiness. I decided that if I put my computer just right, no one would see my eyes closed for a few minutes. The office’s policy is not to close the door, otherwise I would slam the door shut and lie on the ground.
After a long time, I felt that someone was standing at the door of my office, so I opened my eyes and looked at my computer. No one there. Thank goodness, I think. I believe this will be well reflected in my next review: "Yes, sir, it is easier to concentrate with my eyes closed."
I turned on the screen to check the last two emails, and suddenly, my vision became blurred. I focused on the screen, and the situation seemed to get worse, so I checked my long-distance vision by looking at the corridor outside the door.
Something is wrong. The air is gray and thick, and my direct thought is fire. I grabbed my wallet, got up and walked to the door, and yelled at a colleague whose office was next to me, but I didn't get any answer, I just smelled it and found nothing unusual.
"Hello?" I questioned the mist in front of me. no respond. "What the hell is going on?" I couldn't see where I was walking, so I grabbed what I thought should be the filing cabinet outside my office, but I felt the bark. I fumbled towards the reception area, sliding one hand over something slimy-some kind of yellow-green slime. Sticky. I took it close to my nose and vomit. It smelled of rotten eggs and vomit.
Then, a faint, indistinguishable noise came in the distance—something that sounded and felt loud. I dare not speak. I just waited to hear it again.
I know. It's a bit clearer this time—closer. I still waited, motionless. The voice came again, even closer. This is a person who speaks very softly, in a rhythmic tone.
I slowly started walking back towards my office, but as I walked back, its speed increased. So I squatted down, hoping that this thing couldn't see me. I don't recognize this voice, and I am afraid that there is no one else around. Maybe they are already dead. Maybe I'm dead, he killed me.
At this height, I can see the fog about a foot above the ground, so I lie on the ground to see if I can see anything. I did see some things—something that might be very big feet, the code in front of me, but it's hard for me to focus my thoughts on this concept. I squinted and saw three feet, not two, but three brown, dirty, hairy feet, with toenails as big as bear claws. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)