killer game

The early morning kicked off again with chaos.

When the phone rang, Charley yelled in the bathroom: "Who's going to answer the phone!"

Then Catherine yelled back: "I'm busy!"

She paused for a while with a blank face, watching the phone ringing persistently, and before some people's anger value broke the meter, she turned and went to the next door to answer the phone.

She climbed into bed, picked up the microphone: "Hello"

"This is Spencer Academy in New Jersey, and I am Marguerite McCallister, the principal of Spencer Academy..."

Mathilda fell silent.

"Is Mr. or Mrs. Landohome there?" the lady asked.

Mathilda paused for a few seconds, leaned over and took the landline in her hands, looked back at the bathroom, and changed her voice: "I am."

"Ms. Lando," said the lady in a formulaic, hard voice, "when your husband brought Mathilda in, he told us she had some 'problems.' Troubled girl, proud to be a healthy, normal woman, but there is very little we can do without sending her here. Mathilda has been absent from school for almost two weeks now. I know your sir prepaid for a vintage Tuition fees. But if you look at the policy booklet we send you, you know that for prolonged absences without a formal excuse, tuition fees paid will be forfeited.”

She calmly listened to the passage being finished.Thinking of the serious and upright lady principal, those slightly sharp but gentle eyes—at least she was really trying to save her, but the hand she stretched out...was rejected by her.She doesn't need, weak and wavering emotions are simply... not needed in her world.

Looking at her fingers steadily, she said in a calmer voice: "She is dead."

indifferent.Definitely.

Then she hung up the phone directly.

She should no longer be sentimental about someone giving up on her.It has nothing to do with her... yes, nothing to do with it.

※※※※※※※

"Tell that damn brat to do something!"

"Clean up, I've had enough of this mess."

"hurry up!"

※※※※※※※

Mathilda stood at the entrance of the corridor, clutching her nose tightly with her hand.

She felt two streams of heat continuously descending, and her breath was filled with a fishy, ​​sweet and pungent smell.She knows what it is.The injured part was painful, but she couldn't get used to the pain, but she was already used to being beaten.

When you are in such a mess, you should lock yourself in the room and not let anyone see it, even yourself.A dark space is always good for a person to suppress all negative emotions.But she suddenly wanted to blow the wind.

The sound of light footsteps came from the bottom of the stairs, then gradually slowed down... and finally stopped beside her.She raised her head and saw a snow-white handkerchief in front of her.And, the figure in the black coat.

He seemed to be in a good mood, but when he saw her miserable state, his joy slowly disappeared as if being blown away by the wind.There was also a warm luster in those eyes.Not pity, not sarcasm, not anything else.She doesn't understand.It seemed to be just plain... empathetic.

Ha, she thought, why is there such... almost "kind" emotion in those eyes... But strangely, she didn't feel the slightest bit of disgust.

Mathilda didn't know that he would be back at this time today.But she thought she didn't mind, anyway, he had seen her many times when she was most embarrassed.He always seems to be standing far away, occasionally passing by, and occasionally meeting eyes, which is curious but impossible to explore, but... only this person will stop when passing by her, will Return hello when she says hello.Only him.

Only him.

She took the handkerchief he offered.Clearly felt a momentary hesitation in her heart, but she threw it away.Gently rubbing, even if it is a silky and soft handkerchief, there is still a hot pain when it rubs against the skin that has become sensitive due to injury.

The handkerchief was stained with a cloud of bright red blood.Very bright colors, but can not stir up any emotion.Her gaze was so calm that it was almost indifferent, without even the slightest fluctuation, as if it was no different if it happened to her or someone else.One, a heart that is completely out of age.

"Hi." She said in a low voice.

"... hi."

She looked up at the man without moving.Watch quietly.He frowned slightly, half of his expressionless cheek was hidden in the shadow of the backlight.Looking at it like this, her tightly pressed lips gradually relaxed.There is a light arc in the corner of the eye.

"Is it only childhood that is so painful?" She stopped and asked softly, "Or is life just like this?"

He seemed a little startled, not sure if it was because of her voice or her question.He paused for a long time, and finally he said, "Always."

When she opened her eyes and stared at something, she seemed to be surprised, but without a trace of emotion. Such contradictory sides did not seem to be abrupt, but instead gave people an illusion that it should be like this.Bright amber pupils are always moist as if tears are about to fall.But most of the time, she was always silent, quiet, and stood in a certain corner seriously.As if abandoned by the world.It should be the bright and splendid outline of a young girl, but there is indescribable sorrow and vicissitudes.Her eyes can speak.But it is unbearable to look directly at.

"Keep it," he said.

Taking one last look, he forced himself to look away.He put his hands in his coat pockets and walked away.

This time Mathilda wasn't looking after him.She just said softly again: "Hi."

He stopped, as if wondering if he was calling himself, and then he turned his head anyway.

She raised her head, and the arc between her eyebrows and eyes was unexpectedly gentle: "I'm going to the grocery store to buy something, do you want me to help you...buy some milk?"

She always patronizes the grocery store downstairs.The grocery store is always a good place to go when you don't want to go the extra mile to buy a more delicious dessert, a plethora of cheap, plentiful foods that your stomach just needs to fill up, and mostly only your tastebuds will protest.She remembered hearing the boss talk about daily milk, this man insisted on buying milk every day and was used to it.

—and this was the only way she could think of to approach him right now.

She didn't understand what was filling her chest at this moment... She almost gave up thinking, said these words, and wanted to do these things.But it was so strange that it didn't bring her any resentment.

But she doesn't know how to fight for it.What she has learned has always been the simplest one.Grab it, grab what you want, desperately... that's too tragic, too tiring, and it's not suitable.She thought that she was always being forced to accept the will of others, and it had always been like that... She used to think that she was too weak, but gradually, she realized that it was because she had no will of her own, and she was out of the guidance. Unable to gain a foothold.

It's really hard work alone.

So, I know, you're alone too.You won't stop for anyone, you won't move for anything, but when you walk alone...wouldn't you be lonely?

There is no need to enter each other's world, just let them pass by and become a kind of non-accidental intersection.

... If, I held out my hand to you, would you hold it?

Mathilda looked at him seriously, her amber pupils were as bright as stars flickering: "One or two? Two, right?"

He froze on the spot, staring into her eyes, then suddenly reacted and nodded stiffly.

She also nodded, as if she had completed some kind of tacit communication, with a smile on the corners of her eyes and brows.

He had never seen her smile - he even once thought that she was just an old photo hanging on the wall, except that she was not covered by dust, she would not even be moved.But now...the facial features are obviously still the same, reflected by the bright smile, and suddenly, they come alive.

Her figure disappeared down the corridor.

He paused, turned around and continued walking.