White City Murder Expo

There was a knock on the door.I rolled out of bed and scrambled to open the door. It was Hunter.The feeling of nausea and dizziness from the hangover was associated with Hunter's face in the doorway, and I felt subtly nauseous every time I saw him afterwards.My stomach was twitching, and I was impatient to close the door, but he blocked it with his hand, with a letter in his hand.

"Your landlord couldn't knock on your door and came to me," he said.

I took the letter from him, pushed his hand out, and closed the door.

"Hey!"

He was yelling outside the door while I threw myself on the edge of the sink, throwing up all the undigested stuff from last night.

After that day, Hunter began to appear in front of my eyes often.Sometimes when I was washing dishes in the kitchen, I would see him walking the dog outside. His orange-red curly hair was very conspicuous. From a distance, it looked like a fox passing by the grass.

Once, he knocked on my door and said, "I'm out of coffee beans, can you buy me a cup of coffee?"

I poked his chest with my index finger and squeezed every word viciously through the gap between my teeth: "I'm not as good as you, Hunter. If you pull my fence casually next time , I'll smash your face with a single shot."

Hunter raised his eyebrows, held my wrist, opened his mouth to put my index finger in his mouth, and took a bite before letting go.Then he let go of my hand, and I looked at the teeth marks on my index finger, and without hesitation punched him in the face—he caught it.He grabbed both of my wrists and half pushed me against the wall.

"Hey!" I said, very loudly, it just didn't sound like it should.

"The owner of the tavern told me that your wife ran away to Ohio several years ago," he whispered in my ear, "Your beautiful son has watched you closely for so many years, aren't you lonely?"

"Go away." I said.

Hunter sighed.He took my hand and slid it down his pants.When I touched a hard object, my face turned red, but I opened my five fingers to touch it, and found that it was not what I thought—it was in the shape of a gun.

"Would you like to guess, whether the safety catch is on or not?"

I stared at him, probably terrified.

"Good boy," he said, and I shuddered at the word, "if I let you go now, you'd give me a cup of coffee, wouldn't you?"

I looked at him, and his obnoxious green eyes, reminded me of the color of Petra's eyes.I nodded against my will, and he let me go slowly.

I immediately withdrew my hand, flicked my wrist, and his hand was on the gun in his pocket.I snorted, ignored the hair on my back, and went to make two cups of coffee, and we sat in the living room.

"Take it easy," he said. "Why are you making a fuss. I just want to get on with you."

"I don't know any relationship built with a pistol."

"No? It's not like you haven't touched my gun before." He said narrowly, the tone itself was very obscene.I slapped the table hard, and he laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

I warned him that Butcher would be home in an hour.He pondered for a while after listening, and said: "I am afraid that you are the only one who will be afraid of your son in the whole world."

I sneered and didn't respond.

Everyone can have a gun in their pocket, but not everyone knows how to pull the safety catch.Not everyone dares to shoot, and shooting animals and shooting people are completely different things.

How do you know who lives next door to you?

Ignoring my silence, he looked around my house and said suddenly, "You're not religious."

"I only call out to God when I fall," I said.

He probably found it interesting.After a while, he asked me, "Then what are you resisting?"

"what?"

"Actually, there are many people like us."

"There's no such thing as 'we'." I corrected.

"Please, don't act pedantic," he said. "Do you know how many people there are in Chicago? The men walking down the street, you can't see anything unusual about them. But just maybe passed you He likes his girlfriend's father better."

"That's none of my business."

"Really?" Hunter said. "And your son?"

I didn't speak.Butcher, what about him?I went into his room and saw that he still pressed a photo of me when I was young under the glass table, next to Petra's smiling face cut out of a newspaper.No one knows what he thinks.Placing my picture next to pictures of dead people makes me feel a little creepy.

Some people will kill their lovers, some people will kill their enemies, I don't know how Butcher defines Petra.I would rather believe that he was just impulsive, just like he took me as the object of sexual fantasies at this time, no matter what, it will pass.

"He's just young," I said.

Hunter looked at me, took a sip of coffee calmly, put the cup on the table lightly, and laughed.He was like a turntable full of laughter, a steady stream of monotonous ironic laughter.

I interrupted him very annoyed, and chased him out of my house with a gun to his waist just as he had come.The muzzle of the revolver was pointed at him, but the red-haired lunatic shrugged indifferently, "Why are you so serious?"

"Whatever happened to me and you," I said, "I'm not the same as you. Don't be like a kid who can't wait to find a playmate, stupid."

"Of course you don't have to admit it, but I can see that," he said without being angry at all, "the only difference between you and me is that you have cheated a hapless woman who is willing to bear children for you."