If one day, I die, remember, it was not an accidental death, it was a long-planned death—the eighteenth letter

First letter

I don't know if I'm sick or not, looking at the boy lying on the ground vomiting blood, I have no sympathy or pity in my heart, I feel like I'm in another world separated from them, I watch the boy drag his mutilated body and crawl a few steps towards me, blood dripping.

I held the cat and looked at him, indifferent.

Some people pointed at me, called me cold-blooded, called me terrible, and that was the first time, feeling their gaze through it, reproaching.

But I ...... I really don't care, the boy is dead, what does it have to do with me? I'm neither a doctor nor a god, so what can I do?

I hugged the cat and turned away slowly, behind me the young man's eyes that were gradually losing their brilliance.

Third letter

Today I met a little kid who hit me in a small car and fell to the ground, breaking his skin, and he cried so loudly.

His mom and dad came over and coaxed the child, and I stood there and watched, and the cat in my arms meowed, staring at the child.

"What's the matter with you? Can you walk? Did you know that my child was hit by you? "The woman with a very high-pitched voice pounced on me like a monster with her teeth and claws.

It's weird, I didn't hit it, why do you want to say me?

I can't put it into words, and I have a kind of thought...... What it feels like to do something.

I crouched down and put the cat in front of the child: "Touch it." ”

The child touched and pulled my cat several times, but his mother grabbed him and didn't continue.

I got up with the cats in my arms and stood under a tree on the side and watched them cross the street.

Oh, they ran a red light.

I smiled, let go of the cat in my hand, and turned around.

Behind him was the sound of car brakes, followed by the sound of collisions, and the exclamations of pedestrians.

I picked up the cat that ran back, and I didn't look back.

What does it have to do with me? I was just...... Just a passerby.

Sixth letter

This is the fourteenth time, and I am trying to survive in pain, my low desire to live.

The teenager, he took my hand and asked me why I hurt myself, I didn't tell him, just coldly told him to let go.

You say, how much energy does such a nosy person have?

But he's so annoying, he has to bandage me, is he showing off his perfection?

Looking at his serious appearance with his head down, I suddenly ...... I really want to drag him down to hell together.

Okay, don't you want to save me, then come, I'll open the door for you.

Ninth letter

He kissed me a few times and took me to the amusement park, I was holding the cat, and he followed me and wanted to pull me to be a merry-go-round.

What's the use of sitting on that? It's better to sit down and pray for an accident.

He stupidly bought me something to eat, and he seemed to like it sweet, but I really, I hated it, so greasy.

During our time together, he took me to do things that I had barely done, and I felt that he was going to confess to me.

Twelfth letter

That day, when I came back from the cemetery, I happened to see him, he was with his family, smiling brightly, and the family seemed to be happy.

The sun shrouded them, and I, standing in the shadows, holding my cat, I thought, was unnecessary.

It's not interesting at all, it's originally a two-track person, this boring farce, let's stop here.

I exhaled and walked away with the limp cat in my arms.

Seventeenth letter

Tomorrow it will rain heavily, and at the fifth traffic light on Changyan Road, at about half past five in the afternoon, a driver will drive over.

That driver, he's a bad thing.

I ordered him two of the most expensive bottles of wine, before he left, and there was a time limit, after which it would be forfeited.

The traffic light is broken, oh, I did it.

My house was cleaned up, and the cat was still asleep, feeling relaxed.

It was a faint joy.

Tomorrow, I will wear my most gorgeous clothes, and use my most delicate makeup, to go to a feast of death.

end

Four p.m. the next day.

I got up and left the room.

Five o'clock in the afternoon.

The boy entered the unlocked door.

Five twenty-eight p.m

The boy saw the piece of paper: If one day, I die, remember, it was not an accidental death, it was a long-planned death—the eighteenth letter

And in front of me, there was a blinding light.