Restricted Doomsday Syndrome

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I felt the chill in the mountains, so I went back to the room and closed the doors and windows. Fu Jiang did not move at all in bed, and did not change his posture, as if lying there quietly like a dead body. I watched her face for a while by the bed. I was shaking in the car and could not resist the sleepy worms. At this time, I calmed down, but my sleepiness was gone. In order not to get bored, I decided to write down my experience.

As I once did in the illusion of doomsday, not only to record my own adventures, but also to organize my thoughts and knowledge. Yes, just like reviewing lessons, this is a good habit to maintain excellent grades.

I thought of this, and I couldn't sit still any longer, and couldn't wait to finish the work.

There is no table here, but there are kerosene lamps, workbooks and ballpoint pens in the cabinet. It seems that no one has used it for a long time. The original owner should be a child. Use this pen to graffiti on the workbook. Every piece of paper is used on one side. I can only write my own things on the other side.

While lighting the kerosene lamp, I guessed who the original owner of this farmhouse was and where they are now. The kerosene lamp came on, and I placed it in the corner of the bed, because I was worried about disturbing the sleeping Fujiang, so I used my body to block out the dim light. I sat on the bedside, put my homework on my thighs, picked up a ballpoint pen, and sniffed the smell of kerosene in the lights. I felt like I was wandering in the long river of time, which coincided with the back of a time in the past.

I know this is an illusion, but these objects left in the cabinet may have been used by some children not long ago. On this night, under the light of kerosene lights, draw his childish fantasy on the workbook.

Thinking so, a calm and peaceful emotion appeared in his heart, as if the darkness and evil that had always been around him were dispelled by this light.

I mentioned the pen, where should I start writing? I want to write all my experiences into a complete story, but it is impossible now, and there are similar ideas in the illusion of doomsday, but in the end, just write down the summary as a list. There is not much time left, and we can only do that.

So when I woke up in that public toilet, I listed what happened to me. Because I am not a person who pays special attention to time, the date at that time is a little vague, so the idea of ​​recording in time format is broken. But when I started writing this new diary, what happened in the past month and my thoughts were vivid, as if a stream of clear time was flowing in front of me, so I was very surprised at the feelings of the time. Rich and complicated thinking. In fact, there were many speculations that didn't happen afterwards. Some of them were even very different. Now when I look back and feel funny, I have more new ideas.

So I wrote down the action record in the first line, the second line with brackets to indicate my thoughts at the time, the third line with brackets to indicate my current thoughts, and the fourth line with braces to indicate my gains in this adventure .

Sakuya, Zuojiang, Fujiang, Morino, Chongzhong, Bajing, Shirai, Whisperer, Goat Union, Security Bureau ... A full sense is rippling in my mind, those waves have no stopping time, its rhythm So fast, maybe it's a wonderful thing that ordinary people can't have in their lifetime. I bury my head in it, ruminating over my pride and frustration, happiness and fear, tiredness and determination.

I counted the people who were killed by myself. Although I was prepared in my heart, the number was still awesome. Especially the innocent people killed by the killing ghost Gao Chuan, the waiters in those bars, I feel guilty and feel the heavy weight of a life extinction. I wish that time could go back in time, but that was just delusion. Now, I can only carry this heavy burden all the way.

Happy time turns into tricky ink, and painful time makes my arms sour, but when I hold the pen, there is a force supporting me to record it, listening to the voice of the most authentic self between the lines. . This sound seems to make my body and soul produce a wonderful chemical reaction. In the vagueness, in the magic pattern from the left hand bowl, there is a black fire of purgatory scorching everything that constitutes me, those cells, personality, thoughts, In the spirit and soul, a small amount of impurities were discharged, mixed in tears, and slid down the face.

Then my heart became clear.

When I came back, my adventures had filled the blanks of my workbook. I stopped my pen and stared at my scribbled notes. The lead in my heart fell deeply into an abyss, and I could no longer see it.

"What are you writing?" Fu Jiang's voice came from behind. I turned my head, and suddenly realized that there were still tears on my face, and quickly wiped it with my sleeve.

"You cried? Why?" Fu Jiang asked, clearly an interrogative sentence, but she seemed to know the answer, using the tone of affirmative sentence.

I thought this question would startle my vulnerability, but unexpectedly, when I looked at Fu Jiang's face, my heart calmed down.

"I don't know." I said, "Maybe I feel sad."

Is right to say so ~ www.readwn.com ~ Those complicated emotions are calcined, leaving only a touch of sadness.

Fujiang didn't ask why he was sad, and for whom he was sad, even if he asked, I couldn't answer it. She gathered up and looked at the diary in my hand through the light of the kerosene lamp. I handed it to her generously. These words recorded the truest self, and I hope she can see it.

Fujiang didn't speak, gently raised her hair, turned the paper quietly, her face was plain and focused. She feels very different from before, almost makes people feel that it is not Fujiang here, but another person.

Is another personality? But it is not like Zuo Jiang.

"... Fujiang?"

She raised her head and stared at me with that plain and focused look. For a moment, my soul seemed to be sucked into the eyes that suddenly became deep, and I saw something terrifying hidden in the depths.

Is cold but indifferent, like an unsheathed dagger, but extremely hard and cold.

Is not like a person, but other things that have a human form.

"I'm Zhenjiang, Achuan." A small smile flashed across her face. When she looked closely, she didn't find any expression, and that smile didn't feel like a spring breeze. There is no similarity, full of inorganic sense, like ... mask.

Yes, I remembered that the mask and hood matching her combat uniform were almost exactly the same.

Calm, indifferent, black and cold flame, symbolizing power and evil.

I subconsciously used intelligence identification on her.

Name: Zhenjiang

Age: 23 years old

Occupation: Patients with severe mental illness.

Weapons: a class of critical hedge weapons

Evaluation: C +