killer game

Dusk sinks indifferently behind the high-rise buildings beyond the skyline, and the dust in the air with car exhaust smoke and hot feeling is increasing sharply. It is obviously at the end of summer, but it still gives people a feeling that they are almost breathless. of boredom.

She squinted her eyes and looked at the dark sky above her head. Through the thin curtains, her vision became more blurred, but the drowsy night and the feasting and feasting of the city also looked chaotic and unclear, so she continued to bow her head and remain silent. staring at his palm.

The skin was so pale that it was almost bloodless, the fingers were slender and soft, with delicate and graceful lines, but they looked thin and fragile.But it was such a hand that easily took a life just now.

The uncontrollable trembling has passed, and now it is terribly cold, like a dormant beast, the blood flows in the blue and ferocious veins, expressing stagnation and silence on its own, as if the depression below is about to burst The volcano makes people shiver.

Mathilda carefully and meticulously recalled any subtle feelings at that time, reviewing the whole process from drawing out the gun to aiming to pulling the trigger, she felt very sad in her mind. After replaying it in slow motion countless times, she seemed to find something new and interesting Like, looking at his palm over and over again, loosen, clenched, loosen, clenched, and then gradually, the eyebrows that were originally indifferent were slightly frowned.

She couldn't kill people no matter what, that was her only weakness - now, suddenly, it didn't exist - the defense line that couldn't be crossed in her heart suddenly disappeared.But what happened then?If killing is the opportunity to kill, wouldn't the struggle and entanglement for many days not be worth the sudden fear in my heart at that time...?

Yes, fear.The moment he heard the gunshot, fear overwhelmed his reason, and the emotion he didn't understand took control of his body. That shot...was really uncontrollable, so he suddenly thought of this as an opportunity.

Leon came out of the shower and was taking out the clothes that had been dried in the afternoon in the living room and ironing them one by one with the iron.The fan was whistling quietly, and the dim light illuminated the room, which suddenly seemed old for many years.

Everything is just as usual.

Just as usual.

Mathilda stood by the window with her back to him, as quiet as a cutout of light and shadow, a dead thing without any life.

The small and trifling voice could not be restrained to drill into her ears, disturbing her already messy and disorderly thoughts. For some reason, things that usually had no influence on her suddenly found it unbearable.

...Which condition has changed?

She didn't need to explain at all, he didn't even know where to start asking, so he continued to be silent, the usual silence between each other, only soaked in his own world, as if it was so addictive that people couldn't extricate themselves, but missed In perception, those inexplicable emotions that have never been seen before.

They were obviously two people under the same roof, yet they were as silent as strangers they were familiar with.

She put her hands on her face, and couldn't tell whether it was the cold face, the cold hands, or the lack of temperature in both.

As night fell, she stared fixedly, and her mood suddenly calmed down.

Whether it was a self-righteous evasion, or a fluke of doubts, it seemed to be completely gone.

Leon sat in the living room and took out his sunglasses.The room has been tidied up, and the Silver Queen has been carefully moved to a safe place.

She blinked slowly, grabbed the Peppa Pig gloves on the sofa, and was about to go back to her room to sleep.

"Ma...thilda," the person behind finally called out her name.A little hesitant, and at a loss.

She paused, then slowly turned her head and looked at him.

No one spoke.

Leon was stunned for a while, turned his gaze away, seemed not to know what words to use, and said cautiously and awkwardly, "Are you afraid...?"

The always slow and procrastinated movements covered up the inner struggle, and after such a tormenting thought, he finally asked hesitantly and uneasily...Are you afraid?

After killing someone, will you be afraid?

He will always remember that she was still a child, and he will always remember the scene when she looked at the closed door with tears in her eyes during the catastrophe that day, and he will never forget that she was huddled in the corner and dying without any fluctuations. The look in her eyes... She is still a child.

She is still a child.

It seems that he has been with this man for a long time, and his seriousness and meticulousness have also spread to Mathilda.

She really thought about it seriously, and then, in slow motion, shook her head.Still looking at him like that.

Those eyes were clear and vague, as if nothing was stained on them, but it was because of such purity that the long eyelashes covered them with a shallow layer of scattered shadows. The lake swayed by the wind is so quiet that people can't speak.

Where is the problem?She should stand in the sun, run and laugh, she should have vivid emotions...not...

Leon squirmed his lower lip, fell silent again, and finally he could only say: "...good night."

"Good night."

she says.

The lights went out, and the place returned to silence.

She lay motionless on the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, empty and lifeless, and then, suddenly, she shed tears.There were no suspicious mood swings, but the tears just couldn't be stopped.

Flowing, hand, hesitantly pressed on the chest.

The blood is flowing, the pulse is steady, and everything seems to be without any deviation, but why is the thing overflowing here so strange, so strange.

※※※※※※※

Mathilda overslept.

I finally regained consciousness and didn't want to get up.Pulling the blanket over her head to cover her entire body, she pondered things that had strayed off track, things she didn't even know she had, in the nearly anoxic enclosure.

In the end, she rolled herself into a chrysalis almost in a self-defeating manner.Curled up to compete with myself, and I can't get along with myself.

The creaking sound of the door opening came to her ears, but she didn't move.Her footsteps stopped at the head of the bed, but she still didn't move.A hand touched the big chrysalis cautiously, then took it away after touching it, as if hesitating for something.She waited for a long time without seeing any movement, she threw off the blanket suddenly, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a tall figure beside the bed.

She raised her head with a little resentment, her swollen eyelids and red eye circles, plus her tightly pursed lips, her face was full of displeasure—this expression was too vivid—compared to her usual expressionless and silent face , as if the dead colors on the portrait suddenly come alive.

Leon was stunned for a long time before he thought of blinking his sore eyelids.

She ran down to the ground with bare feet, turned her head and found a piece of paper with the names of those drug dealers scum in strokes, and slapped it in front of him without any hesitation, pursed her lips, and looked up at him.

"Leon," she said, "my name is Mathilda."

Seriously, solemnly, and never more seriously, she repeated: "My name is Mathilda."

She is Mathilda.

Destined for revenge, destined to meet leon, Mathilda.

That's her, just her.

There is no other Mathilda!