Marvel's Journey Begins with Psychosis

No matter what Harry was doing, whether it was out of extreme fear, an explosion under extreme depression, or being overwhelmed by the scene of his father dying in front of him, at this moment, he did have one and only one thought in his mind.

Kill damn Roland! ! !

So at this moment, no fear or hope exists.

There was only one thing in his mind, to stab Roland dozens of times!

"Kill you, kill you, kill you—!"

only……

When he took out the knife he carried with him, it was a very cute pocket knife with a blade of only four centimeters. He stabbed the four-centimeter knife into Roland's chest and abdomen, stabbing him more than a dozen times in a row until he even His hands were also cut, and the greasy blood covered his palms, flowed down his wrists into his cuffs, and flowed through his arms. It seemed to have a strange burning sensation, making him feel as if he had been stung. He dropped the knife in his hand in panic, opened his hands helplessly, and fell to the ground helplessly.

"伱...you, how...you..."

He raised his bloody palm and pointed at the man in front of him with trembling fingers.

This is the man who is still sitting on the chair, leaning on his side with his hands and his feet raised.

The night shrouded, and dark clouds obscured the corners of his eyes, making it difficult for people to see his features. He sat there motionless, and a large amount of blood gradually and quickly spread out on his chest. The entire shirt was dyed scarlet, and under the moonlight Reflecting the dark light...

This terrible man died like this?

of course……

will not.

"what……"

"what!!!!"

The first voice was from Roland.

In the darkness, he suddenly moved and reached out to touch his chest. Under the gaze of Harry, who was as stunned as a sculpture, he raised his blood-stained palm and held it high under the moonlight, observing carefully. ,staring.

The second voice came from Harry.

At some point, Roland changed his sitting position and sat crookedly on one side of the chair. He lowered his legs and half-lyed on the chair in an extremely relaxed posture. Slowly, slowly, he stretched out his shoulders. With his third hand, he wiped his own blood on Harry's face.

In such a scene, even the little spider watching on the side felt some unspeakable discomfort, as if something was tugging at his throat and tying a knot, as if his breathing had become thicker, oppressing him as if he were drowning. , causing him to take off his mask and take a deep breath...

Harry, as the person involved, was even more frightened.

"Once upon a time..."

At this time, Roland, who was sitting back in his chair, spoke. He spoke in a very long tone as if he was reciting some ancient melodious poem.

"Once upon a time, it seems like a lifetime ago, I thought that one day, if I could put aside all those mundane chores, I wouldn't have to worry about school, work, house loans and car maintenance, I could be brave resigned, then slapped his boss in the face, and then walked out of the office proudly...

Maybe I'll become a philosopher? A musician? A star? A poet? Or a gangster who does all kinds of evil.

But that was too heavy.

I really want to be myself, not working hard for anything, not fighting for anything.

But no. "

Roland lowered his head and seemed to smile.

"So at the beginning, I didn't believe in gods and Buddhas, but when I saw temples on the way, I would want to pay my respects, hoping that maybe some god or Buddha would be so compassionate that he would use his magical power to realize my not-extravagant wish.

At that time, I believed that some things were higher than life. I believe that I am willing to trade my life for something higher than life.

Later, I felt that I really believed that I was worshiping the God of Wealth. Because I finally realized that whether I was going to the market to kill fish or doing an autopsy in the forensic room, the things I could come into contact with never involved death, real death. It's always been about survival.

Killing fish is my job, as is forensic medicine. I am not deciding who lives or dies, even if it is just a fish. I just need that job to support myself so that I will not be unable to solve the problem when I see the charge sheet.

Later, ha, the most important thing I did was sleep. I slept during the day and at night. I was a doctor, but I couldn’t cure myself, and neither could anyone else. No one could.

So who should I worship, probably Duke Zhou? At that time, I would still dream, and I would still ask for peace of mind.

Later, oh, it was almost the end, I no longer needed peace of mind, it was really about to calm down, stop jumping, and die.

Then, I didn’t believe anything. At that time, everything returned to the original question, the philosophical question.

Knowing yourself. "

At this time, Roland stood up, with a smile on his face, blood all over his body, and an extra raised arm on his shoulders. He took a step forward like a monster walking out of a horror story. , leaving a bloody footprint on the grass, gently, gently squatting in front of the confused Harry.

"Did your father die because of me? It seems not. He died for what he did.

Does he know what he is doing? Yes.

Does he regret it? Maybe, maybe at the last moment of his life, when he looked at you, he regretted it.

But if you give him a chance to choose again, Harry, do you think your father will still become the person you see today? "

Harry didn't speak, he just closed his mouth tightly, biting his lips with blood.

He knew the answer to this question, and the answer made him despair and confused.

"You seem to be the same way. You know yourself and you know what you will do."

Close to Harry's ear, Roland whispered: "You will kill me. You are a murderer just like him and your father."

"No! No, it's not like this! No... it's not... like this..."

Harry stood up, and what he saw was Roland, who also stood up and stood in front of him, with calm eyes.

What he saw was Roland's body covered in blood.

At this time, he began to feel pain, and his palm cut by the knife made him miserable.

Are your palms hurting?

Or somewhere else?

Harry didn't know, he just felt confused in his head.

A wet hand was pressed against his face, smooth, wet, warm... and bloody.

That was Roland's hand, the extra hand on the shoulder, stained with blood.

"You don't know what you are doing, then..."

Roland stretched out his hand, and the knife that fell on the ground appeared in his hand. He carefully wiped off the blood on the knife and put it in Harry's hand again.

"Now, choose again."

Roland took a step back and sat back on his chair. He was still covered in blood, his features were still unclear, and he could still only hear his voice.

"So, Harry, what are your options?"