"No?"

"Nothing. For a long time I didn't believe her or even know my presence in the room. Then I cooked some potatoes and she ate it."

"She didn't try to call the police?" "No."

"Is there no violence?"

"No. She knows what I did and why I did it. It was not planned in advance, but we talked about such an experiment in abstract dialogue. She was not harmed, you see. She may have lost some weight, but That's it."

"Where is she now?"

"She left the next day. I don't know where she went."

"What does all this prove?"

"Maybe there is nothing. But this opened an interesting start to my investigation."

"Start? Is this just the beginning?"

Steve's voice disgusted Quaid.

"Stephen-"

"You might have killed her!"

"No."

"She may lose her mind. She will lose her balance forever."

"Probably. But unlikely. She is a strong-willed woman."

"But you broke her."

"Yes. This is the journey she is going to go through. We talked about facing her fears. So I am here to arrange for Cheryl to do that. Actually nothing."

"You force her to do it. Otherwise she won't leave."

"Yes. This is an education for her."

"So now you are a teacher?"

Steve hopes he can avoid the irony. But it is there. Irony; anger; and a little fear. "Yes, I am the teacher." Quaid replied, looking at Steve sideways, his eyes not focused. "I'm teaching people to fear." Steve stared at the floor. "Are you satisfied with what you have learned?"

"And learned it, Steve. I learned it too. This is a very exciting prospect: a world full of investigation fears. Especially for smart people. Even in the face of rationalization-"

Steve stood up. "I don't want to listen anymore."

"Oh yes."

"Tomorrow I will go to class tomorrow."

"No."

"what?"

Beat, faltering.

"No. Don't go."

"Why?" His heart was beating. He worried about Quaid, he never realized how deep he was.

"I have more books for you."

Steve felt himself blushing. slightly. What was he thinking at that moment? Would you throw him down with a football tackle and then start trying his fear?

No, idiot thoughts.

"I have a book about Kilkegaard that you like. Upstairs. I want two minutes."

With a smile, Quaid left the room.

Steve squatted on his hips and began to strap the photos again. The moment Cheryl picked up the rotten meat that fascinated him for the first time. The expression on her face was completely different from the woman he knew. Questions, confusion and deep fears were written there.

These are the words of Quaid. An swear word. An obscene word has been related to the torture of an innocent girl by Quaid from tonight.

As Steve stared at the picture, he thought about the expression on his face. Doesn't he have the same confusion on his face? Maybe there are some fears, waiting to be released. He heard the voice behind him, too soft to be heard.

Unless he crawls.

Oh my goodness, unless he is-a piece of chloroform cloth is clipped to Steve's mouth and nostrils. He involuntarily took a breath, and the steam settled in his sinuses, making his eyes watery. A group of black spots appeared in the corner of the world, just out of sight, and it began to become redder and red, and this stain kept beating the rhythm of his jovial heart.

In the center of Steve's head, he could see Quaid's voice like a veil. It said his name.

"Stephen."

once again.

"-."

"-."

"-hen."

"."

The stain is the world. The world is dark and disappeared. Out of sight out of mind.

Steve falls awkwardly in the photo.

When he woke up, he didn't realize his consciousness. There is darkness everywhere, in all directions. He woke up for an hour with his eyes wide open before realizing they were open.

In the experiment, he moved first, arms and legs, then head. Except for the ankle, he did not receive his expectations. There must be a chain or something on his left ankle. When he tried to move too far, it bruised his skin.

The floor under him was uncomfortable, and when he looked more closely with his palm, he realized that he was lying on a huge grille or some kind of grid. It is metal, with a regular surface extending to his arm in all directions. When his arm poked from the hole in this grid, he touched nothing. It's just that empty air fell from under him.

The first infrared photos taken by Quaid for Stephen's imprisonment depict his exploration experience. As Quaid expected, the subjects were quite rational about their situation. No hysteria. There is no curse. There are no tears. This is the challenge of this particular topic. He knew exactly what happened. He will respond logically to his fears. This will definitely make you more difficult to solve than.

But when he broke in, the result will bring much gain. That way, his soul would not open up for Quaid to see and touch? There are too many things in his room and he wants to read. Steve's eyes gradually got used to the darkness.

He was imprisoned in what seemed to be a shaft. He estimated that it was about 20 feet wide and completely circular. Is it used in a tunnel or some kind of air shaft in an underground factory? Steve's mind mapped the area around Pilgrim Street, trying to find the most likely location to take him away. He couldn't figure it out.

nowhere.

He was lost in an unrepairable or unrecognizable place. There is no corner of the shaft to attract his attention. There are no cracks or holes in the walls to hide his consciousness.

To make matters worse, he was lying on the grid suspended above the shaft, lying lying on the eagle. His eyes could not see the darkness under him: the shaft seemed to be bottomless. Moreover, only the thin grill net and fragile chain bound his ankle between him and the fall.

He imagined himself remaining calm under the empty black sky and infinite darkness. The air is warm and old. It dried up the tears that suddenly poured into his eyes, making them gummy. He shed tears when he started yelling for help, and the darkness made his speech easy.

He yelled hoarsely, then lay on the grid. He couldn't help but imagine that beyond his fragile bed, the darkness would last forever. Of course, this is ridiculous. He said loudly.

Nothing will last forever.

However, he will never know. If he fell into the absolute darkness below himself, he would fall and fall again, without seeing the bottom of the well coming. Although he tried to think brighter and more positive images, his brain caused his body to fall off this terrible axis, and the bottom part was removed from his injured body with a foot, while his eyes were looking Without it, his brain cannot predict it.

Until he fights.

Will he see the light when his head opens rapidly due to impact? At the moment his body becomes internal organs, will he understand why he lives and died?

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