15 years ago Spiegel House, the second 'me'

But when I found out that woman had taken my place, she was not yet 30 years old, but she was still a full ten years old from me, and at that time, I was a child who had not yet graduated from elementary school. I don't understand what my father's intentions are? At that time, the Spiegel House had not yet been built, and my father had not become a soothsayer sought after by everyone.

Later, because of my dreams, we owned the Spiegel House. In the beginning, my father was like a jewel to me, and he always came to me to ask me what I dreamed of. It also allows me to stay in my favorite study from time to time, see all kinds of books, and hope that my dreams will become more and more real.

But as time went on, my dreams became less and less, and even when I couldn't dream, my father began to force me to sleep, and naturally I was not as precious in his eyes as before.

Gradually, like someone who is always forced to eat has anorexia, I feel like I have narcolepsy, a terrible aversion to sleep, which makes me more and more depressed, more and more like to be alone, and I miss my mother more and more, although she has not visited me once since she ran away from home.

I grew to like to sit alone, even at night, and sometimes, in order to avoid my father's surveillance, I sat on the bridge in the Spiegel House. It was so high that I couldn't help but feel the urge to jump. But you won't die right away if you jump, because there's snow down there, and isn't it as soft as cotton? How can someone fall to their death? So I gave up on the idea and found it boring.

Every time my father found out at night that there was no one in my room, he would frantically look for me all over the house until he found me. He found me either in the corner of the warehouse or on the flyover. I found that whenever he found me on the flyover, he would break out in a cold sweat and even tremble his hands and feet.

This discovery actually made me happy because I thought I had found a new way to prove love. So since then, I've been to the flyover more often, and I want to prove that my father loves me all the time.

But not long after this kind of day, my dreams dried up, at that time I was not yet an adult, the loneliness of dreams made me relax, let me feel that life can start again, but, this new beginning is not what I wanted, my father locked me in that deep and dark place, never allowed me to set foot in every inch of space I once lived, and locked all the entrances and exits, only he and Mr. Butler could come and bring me food, and there was the one I hated, It is said that a woman who has passed the age of 30.

Only the three of them could come upstairs to see me, and my father and Mr. Butler were the most frequent, but the two of them were different, and my father always came up frowning and asking me the exact same questions, and when he could not get an answer, he would throw his hand and leave. They won't bring me all kinds of good food and all kinds of fun things.

But Mr. Butler is so gentle, so kind, he takes care of me like a real elder, never mentions the things I hate, all the toys and snacks in my house are brought to me by him, and will secretly send those books I used to like to my room, let me hide them and read them slowly, anyway, there are so many books in the study, my father will not read them often, a few less, he can't find out, that's what Mr. Housekeeper said.

He didn't like my father, and I could tell that he didn't like that old-fashioned, horrible man as much as I did. Moreover, Mr. Butler is very handsome, and although he is over fifty years old, he is still very well maintained. He was also the only one in the house who was not afraid of his father, and sometimes I rarely saw him passing by his father, who was always hunched over his back and had a frightened look in his eyes.

Sometimes I wonder why we didn't have Mr. Housekeeper when we first came to Spiegel. If there had been Mr. Butler at that time, I would not have been imprisoned so easily by my father, I think Mr. Butler would have helped me, and even he would have ordered my father to keep me in the space I liked.

I can't remember what happened after that, because I was sick, very sick, not physically, but mentally, the kind of pain that I couldn't figure out, I couldn't think through it. I began to yearn more and more for liberation, for the darkness that didn't exist, as if there was the happy life I wanted behind it.

Mr. Butler said to me, "I am indeed sick, but this disease will not let me die, and I will gradually get better." When he said that, I always shook my head desperately, I don't want to get better, unless they tell me to leave Spiegel House and let me go back to my old school to continue my studies, then I will really get better.

But whenever I made this request, Mr. Butler was always silent, and only at that moment would he be gloomy like a sculpture, and I could not understand what he was thinking. Sometimes when I ask in a hurry, he will say, "A lot of kids, a lot of kids are just like you, you have to think about them, you know?" ”

But I don't understand what he means at all? I don't think there are any children in this world who are the same as me, I am the most special and isolated one, why should I think about other people? So, like Mr. Butler, I'm getting more and more gloomy.

My life is like a blackboard that has been wiped clean, there will never be any waves, and no one will leave a handwriting on it, because this clean-wiped blackboard, although it is not used for a long time, is about to face the fate of abandonment......

For many years after that, I was sick and Mr. Butler stopped showing up. The two black notebooks in my hand replaced all the toys he gave me, and every day, every day, I recorded my unhappiness and life in the notebook, as well as my never-ending tears.

In such a dark and cramped space, I began to like to sleep, maybe because of illness, my brain became more and more dizzy, I looked at my bony hands, many times I imagined, what it would be like for these hands to become white bones? The fingers must be very thin, and the white tip is like the tip of a needle, and anyone who touches it will bleed.

Then, I looked around at the walls, and though there was no light, I couldn't see their colors. But I can imagine that in the future, a space may be made in the thick layers of bricks between these walls and become my grave. For I could not think of where my father would bury me if he had not taken me out of this dark place.

——

The Mr. Housekeeper mentioned here is not the Mr. Housekeeper we see now, the two people are different, as for the differences between them, please guess for yourself according to their age, but there is one thing that can be clearly told to you, this Mr. Housekeeper is a person who also makes An Ze feel afraid, and a person who controls the fate of An Ze and the mistress of the treacherous house.