My hand was cut backwards behind my back, and it didn't take long for my hand to be completely amputated. But it doesn't seem to matter anymore. The two men in front of me were talking, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. That's fine, I don't want to hear them at all. But I think 774 can understand.

The car stopped. Then it continued to start, and another stream of blood rushed up from under him, and the blood of DTR35 had not yet clotted, which gave me a little hope, that he might be alive. But what's the use of living a little longer, it's nothing more than a more sober experience of the process of death. The light suddenly brightened, and the warm yellow warmed my eyes. It's the street lights, and we're already in the city.

There is truth in lies, but there is truth in what we don't like. Let you go, get off at the park. Buried deep in the ground, without a single light, without a single crevice.

The sound of the front seat stopped abruptly. I didn't realize what that meant. It's not the silence at the end of the conversation, it's another, the attention is suddenly taken away, and the words are stopped halfway through. It's as if they see something. The speed of the vehicle slows down.

"What's going on?"

"Tell him not to get in the way."

"But—is he crazy! What is he doing—"

The grinding of wheels turned the world upside down.

There was a violent crash, my body bouncing off various obstacles, and I remembered billiards. Shattered glass poured down like a glittering waterfall, the overturned car continued to slide, and sparks landed less than ten inches from my face. The sliding stopped, my clothes were in ruins, and my head was resting on my knees — not my knees, the DTR35's knees. We were entangled, his face twisted to the side, as if ashamed of his death. I heard screams, as if I had made them myself. The 774 crawled out of the gap in the rear windshield, like a bloody Satan. His red hand stained with viscous plasma stretched out, and I was stunned, and it took a while before I dared to grab it, cold and scary.

I saw the driver's door of the car open, revealing a pair of shoes, but I didn't bother to look at it, just tried to crawl away. My hands are covered in broken glass. I crawled out a short distance when I heard shouting behind me. The man in the jersey climbed out of the car, his leg bent at a comical angle, and blood dragged behind him. Another man walked over, his face scarred like wrinkles, showing that he was prematurely aging, but his bone age was no more than 40 years old. His jolly blue eyes were innocent and young, dancing with sparks of happiness. He smiled at me, showing his white, neat teeth. Then he fired several shots at the windshield, and the driver didn't have time to climb out and died inside. I tried to get out of the killing, and instead of following, the man walked towards the jersey man.

He could still move, and his legs squirmed as if he had several joints. The man turned him around, the broken rib stuck into his lungs, and the pink foam kept pouring out. The man stepped on his throat, and the jersey man's eyes turned white. Finally, with an unsmooth sigh, he died.

The man walked over and touched the artery of the DTR35. "Miracle!" His familiar tone brought me back to my childhood with my mentor and the waves. My hands scratched at the walls, leaving my blood behind, looking for a slit that would allow me to pass through like a photon, and the people next door were chattering.

"He's alive." The man looked at me.

"I hear the sirens, let's go before they come."

I didn't suffer a fatal injury, maybe the soft tissue frustration was more severe, and I could barely get 774 into the car, and he was still so light. The man brought the DTR35 up and threw me a medical kit.

"I don't know if I can save his life, it's up to God." He drew a cross.

774 was horribly red all over his body, gasping for breath beside me. I was about to ask him if he was in a bad situation, when the injection gun hit him instantly, and we drove away.

"Get that thing out of here!" The man commanded me loudly. Trembling, I pulled out the damn needle, but most of the liquid still went into 774's vein, and the shaking of the cart accelerated the spread of the potion. I finally couldn't help crying, burying my face in the palm of my hand, covering my ears and stealing the bell thinking that others wouldn't know, at least not care. "Who are you?" I asked, sobbing, feeling that everything was already strange.

He hesitated for a moment. "If I'm going to say we're friends right now – it doesn't seem good to lie in the first place. I'm just the one who is less likely to kill you. ”

A lot of things that I was familiar with suddenly become abstract and unreal, and the more I look closely, the more confusing I become. Entering the darkness with the light is the only way to understand the light, and if you want to understand the darkness, you can only be in it.

We seem to be coming to the finish line soon.

It's an abandoned factory or something. The barbed wire was rusty, very high, and the red dragonflies flew over and stopped on the steel pipes, and everything was silent, except for the sound of the wind blowing through the sultry heather bushes. There are still roses and lilacs in the world in May.

"This is a refuge for me." The man said to me, because only I could hear me. We bandaged DTR35's wound briefly, and his most important organs were not damaged, but the impact was too strong and he lost too much blood along the way. JR774 is still unconscious, and the purple-black color near the wound suggests that it may be worse than the DTR35's injury. "Is it safe enough?"

"It's the safest place to be." The man said confusedly.

"What's your name?" In fact, this question is far less important than the matter itself. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Yannis. You can call me Yannis. "I noticed that he was missing two fingers, the ring finger and all the little fingers. The wound is recent, but not just now. I think about whose hand I pinched when I slammed the door in the mental hospital.