dramatic death

The atrocity is easy to understand.

The original intention of the perpetrators was probably revenge. They broke my right hand over and over again, because I stabbed my classmate sitting at the front desk with this hand while holding a pen.

They would hit me as many times as I stabbed, and the repetition was to deepen the memory, so that the fear was engraved in my bone marrow.

Let me learn to obey.

Learn to repent.

Yet the demon's desires are never limited to harm, especially in this repressive school.Gradually, the perpetrators were not satisfied with breaking my hand bones. They developed various new ways to play - such as stripping off my clothes and tying me up in various strange places.

As if just imagining my frightened expression would give them supreme pleasure.

Yesterday morning, I woke up outside the clock tower on campus.

When the consciousness went back, the six morning bells seemed to crush my head.The roaring bell echoed in a very close place, causing my eyes to turn black and my stomach to churn.

I wanted to vomit. I don't know if it was the aftereffects of hunger or the concussion caused by the bell. It took me nearly 3 minutes to regain consciousness, and it took me another 5 minutes to discern what kind of situation I was in.

——I was hung under the maintenance platform on the clock face, and my line of sight was at the same level as the planetarium on the twelfth floor of the teaching building. Looking down, I could see my naked body and the school sleeping in the mist. The dark shadows of the grove.

My hands were tied with strong ropes around the railings of the maintenance stand, and my legs and feet were so cold that I lost consciousness long ago. The soft morning sun fell over the hemispherical dome of the planetarium and fell into my eyes, dazzling the dizzy deprivation. My remaining vision was destroyed, leaving only the sound of howling wind and the faint voice of the instructor.

He is looking for me.

I vaguely had such an idea, but my dry throat couldn't make any sound.

Is he really looking for me?

Doubt gnawed at my heart.

I kept imagining the illusion that I fell, and the lack of oxygen in my brain blurred my consciousness, and I even saw myself lying in a cold flower bed, with dirty blood staining the ruined flower branches.

I can't stop my imagination.

This kind of thinking is undoubtedly a kind of torture. While bringing the joy of suicide, it also brings overwhelming fear.I don't know whether I am afraid or looking forward to death. I am like a prisoner waiting for execution. I close my eyes, but I can't hear the countdown bell.

I could only hear the sound of the wind, howling and roaring, the wind swept over the sky and covered the sky, crushing the small voice of the instructor into sifted powder.

[Humans are fragile creatures.

They don't have strong bones, and they don't have a heart that can regenerate after being destroyed. They will retreat because of hopelessness, and they will stagnate because of failure.They will curl up with their companions in a small prison, and will deceive themselves and others to block all negative news. They will scold the hero for being "reckless" while praising the hero for being "strong".

I wanted to be a hero. 】

I write this in a hospital corridor at 24:[-] am, [-] hours after being rescued from the clock tower.

The leaden daylight shrouded the blurred tree shadows, and the messy bushes whispered in the cold wind. The cold air penetrated into my limbs and bones from my knees, but it failed to bring the slightest clarity to my brain.My head was still dazed, and my eyes seemed to be covered with a white cloth. The blood and cold sweat in my hands dripped down my fingertips. They splashed on the floor and in my diary.

The evening wind carried the bells through every corridor.

I sat on the waiting chair outside the emergency room of the school hospital, listening to the tick-tock of the quartz clock on the wall as I walked forward. Stay firmly in place.

I realize at this very moment that I'm just a human being and I can't do anything, I can't protect anyone, I can't even protect myself.

I am a coward.

Not even the courage to commit suicide.

I always depend on others to save me.

In the middle of the night five hours ago, after twelve days, the atrocities had turned from revenge to torture.I couldn't sleep well and didn't even dare to close my eyes after nightfall.I tried countless ways to keep myself awake, but the sleepiness that fell on time was like falling into the inescapable flute*, even if I tied myself to the bed board, I would show up behind the school hospital at three o'clock on time on the grass.

They could always take me out of the room, into some strange place, like holding a demon's spell.

I have no ability to resist.

So I chose to give up.

I have set up traps on the bed, and as soon as my head leaves the pillow, the long-awaited scissors will plunge into my arteries and send me to eternal sleep.My instructor is not here, and I have no time to think about where he went. The day-to-day torture has already strained my shaky nerves. I don't want to experience those boring "surprises" again. I would rather die here.

I do not want to live.

Living is a very hard thing.

The bell rang at one o'clock in the morning, and in the dark night, I heard the sound of the door lock opening and closing.

My eyes widened in the dark, my breathing was cut by a fast heartbeat, which brought noisy tinnitus.The bed sheet was pulled and made a squeaky noise. Someone climbed up from under my feet, dismantled the mechanism, took away the scissors, and even opened my tightly clenched palms.

I tried to protest, but my body seemed to be tied to the gallows, and I heard his breathing rubbed into my roaring heartbeat, and the voices trembled and staccato like crying.

He covered my mouth and lifted me into a soft place.I heard him sigh softly, and then reached out and ruffled my hair.

I heard him say, "Sleep, I will protect you."

That was the beginning of this nightmare.

I struggled to wake up with the bell ringing at five o'clock in the morning, panting like a fish out of water against my fast heartbeat.In the dark night, only my breathing was left, and the noisy heartbeat was amplified countless times, hitting my temples one after another.

I turned over with difficulty and struggled to turn on the crumbling desk lamp.I was the only one left in the small room. The opposite bed was littered with ropes and scissors, and all the crumpled quilts had fallen to the floor. That was my bed, but now I was sleeping in the instructor’s on the bed.

I tried to stand up with the edge of the bed, but the moment I took a step, I fell to my knees on the ground.My legs were trembling, my hands were trembling, and something overflowed from my eye sockets, splashing drops on the cold floor.

The old desk lamp fell down unbearably, and it ended its short life with a muffled sound, ushering in the overwhelming darkness.

I think of the voice I heard before going to bed.

"Sleep, I will protect you."

It was the instructor's voice.

There are dense snowflakes in the field of vision, and the open door is like a dark cave.I didn't dare to think and couldn't persuade myself to calm down. I didn't know if the instructor also suffered the atrocities I experienced while I was asleep.

I think of those piercing pains, of those noisy laughter.I stood up and stumbled and ran out, like a pair of cold hands pushing me into the boundless darkness.

When the instructor wakes up every day, is he faced with such a scene?

Would he worry about me, would he panic too?

My brain was blank, and everything in the past hit my mind like a revolving lantern. I remembered the guilt expression of the instructor, the bruises under his eyes, and the fact that he had never changed his pajamas in the past twelve days. Lying neatly on the bed, he turned his head and smiled and said good night to me.

He was always ready for a race, always ready to play hide-and-seek on this nightmarish campus.

And in these twelve days, I never said good night to him.

At 5:30 in the morning, I found my instructor on the grass behind the school hospital.

He was lying where I was first retaliated against, with an underclassman.He seems to be asleep, and he seems to be thinking about some life issues. From my perspective, I can only see his blood-stained arms, twisted, and hanging powerlessly on the grass.

I don't know what he went through.

The petite girl passed me by in a shoddy metal wheelchair, knocking me staggering and almost kneeling on the grass.A ray of morning sun rose from behind me in the sky, passed through the cold morning wind, and fell on the dirty grass in front of me.

I saw the instructor smile, he turned his head and looked at me, his bright eyes were like a morning star hidden in the sky.

"I won," he said.

Blood dripped down his cheeks, splashing dirty on the grass.I saw his twisted right hand move, through the thin morning light, as if to hold my shadow.

He said: "It's really hard to do something great, no wonder the brave deeds are generally followed by heroic sacrifices."

He said: "Thanks to Tan Xiao this time, this dilapidated school is like an isolated island, and it takes a lot of hard work to find a surveillance video."

He said: "Don't be afraid, this gang of troublemakers has fallen into my hands, and I promise to be as quiet as chickens in front of you in the future."

He said: "Don't cry, there is still a long way to go in life, we can't stop here."

……

Yin Tong paused.

He looked up at Christie.The petite girl sat with her head bowed opposite the light screen, her folded fingers clenched the dress on her knees tightly.

"Continue," she didn't look up, her voice was as flat as a synthesized electronic sound, "Continue to read, there is still a paragraph on the piece of paper in your hand."

Yin Tong exhaled a long breath, looking down at the diary paper in his hand.

……

I couldn't understand what he was saying.

The instructor always said something unbelievable, as if he was emphasizing: I'm hiding something from you.

What is the point of this emphasis?What do you gain by convincing me to doubt him?

Anyway, I can't escape.

After this nightmarish night, after the eight hours I had spent waiting for his surgery to be over, I would be the trophy he had.

I can't escape.