I felt life passing there, like the noise of the water, and the blood that surged out of it was taking me away, wasn't it? Through the airtight door, I couldn't hear anything outside, and I slowly collapsed, leaning against the door. How will I die, will I be cremated? Does it still hurt? I regretted it and slammed the door with my other hand.

Sha Ye pushed open the door and came in, startled, and watched in horror as my wrists were bloody, staining my clothes and pants red, mixed with the water from the floor tiles, and looking as bewitching as a vivid work of art.

He panicked and picked me up from the bathroom and placed me on the sofa, which was instantly stained with blood. I couldn't see him clearly, my vision was blurry, and I made a faint voice and told him, "Don't save me, let me die, okay?" ”

Dizziness whirled around, and I closed my eyes and waited for myself to lose consciousness. The sound of him rummaging through the cabinets was heard, and then he took out a bandage and wrapped it around me, and said, "I'll take you to the hospital right away, don't sleep, Hua." ”

I tried to get away from his big hand, so I shook my injured left hand desperately, my hand hurt, and then I literally fainted.

I was sent to a private hospital with a few stitches on my hand that would leave an ugly scar later. I woke up the next day.

"When did you start not loving me? Because you saw my house too messy the night before? Or have you never loved me? ”

"We're not suitable."

"What's not right? Is it because I don't deserve you, or is it because you earn more than me? ”

"It's not just because of these external things......" he said and stopped.

"What are you not good to say, since you want to break up with me, what else is there that you can't say to let me know?"

"We're not suitable." He stressed again, "I hope you are optimistic and sunny, and have a career that you are fighting for, but you don't." Why is there such a big difference between you and London when you are in London, what I like is the one in London. ”

"I'm gone with that......"

I was disappointed.

He offered to take me home and do one last thing for him as a boyfriend. After getting in the car, I asked the driver to drive to another place - Yummy.

"There's one thing I've had a hard time telling you before, but now might be the right time."

We stood at Yummy's doorway, ready with a stomach ready, waiting between our mouths and throats.

"Actually, I work here, work as a waiter, and when I leave my family, I get mixed up very badly. I fried noodles or made pizza here every day, and I wanted to be an orderer, but I would scold customers, so I stayed in the back kitchen...... Have you eaten this shop, it's not bad. ”

"You can still joke at this time."

"Now that I've told you all about myself, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

My eyes hurt a little from the wind, and I looked at him and waited for his answer.

"I know you're here, I've stalked you." He said naturally, "Then let's break up." ”

Again, this answer.

The noisy surroundings suddenly fell silent, and I stubbornly said, "I don't agree." ”

"And what else do you want me to do? Say what? ”

"Say a word of blessing to me. I don't agree with you saying that you have to break up, you have to say it. ”

"That's... Wishing you... Found it... Happiness that can be enjoyed forever. He said.

"Then let's break up." I'll talk about it this time.

The moment I turned around, tears fell, and I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and told him, "Please delete that group photo." ”

It was the only photo we had together, and he knew which one it was, and he agreed to me.

Under his eyes, there is no one to hug. I don't like to belittle my self-esteem to keep the other person, and if he really loves me, he will come back to me. Now my heart hurts, my hands hurt too, and I need to rest.

I forgot how I went back, and I didn't change my pajamas when I got home, so I fell on the bed and cried for a long time in a close-fitting white T-shirt. I want him to come to me, I want to be what Wilde called the stupid thing to chase after for love. Why do all men always not cherish love after they get it? Why is the beginning always so beautiful and the end so abrupt? What exactly is love?

The longer I cried, the hotter my body became, and my eyes hurt so much that I washed a towel and put it on my face, and lay on the bed and continued to cry.

I fell asleep in a daze, and the knock on the door woke me up.

I heard Brooks scream and struggled to get out of bed and open the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, only to realize that they were all nasal.

Brooks was shocked by my embarrassment and asked, "What's going on?" Can I come in first? ”

"Of course."

Brooks entered the door and immediately ran to the bathroom, I was puzzled and looked over, only to realize that I had forgotten to turn off the faucet of the sink, and the water kept gushing down, and there was a pool of water on the ground, probably seeping downstairs.

"Did you seep downstairs?"

"Yes." He spoke with his waist in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

"Looks like I'm going to have to find a master to fix it."

"I'm sorry."

"Hua, are you okay? Your face is red. ”

Hearing his words, I realized that I didn't seem to be feeling well now, with dizziness, headache, and sore throat.

"Do you have a fever?"

"I have a bit of a headache."

"Is there any medicine at home?"

I shook my head.

"You wait a minute, I'll go downstairs and get it."

"No, I'll just drink some water."

"When you're alone, you should take care of yourself."

Brooks said earnestly, patting me on the shoulder, looking at me worriedly, and then went downstairs to get the medicine.

Then I had a high fever for three days, but I didn't have insurance and refused to go to the hospital. My cheeks were hot, from rosy to pale and then to rosy, my throat was so sore that I couldn't speak, my consciousness was so weak that I didn't even have the strength to go to the toilet.

I've been having nightmares for the past three days, dreaming of those two children coming to me, dreaming of Xiamen, dreaming of London. I woke up from my dream with tears in my eyes and sweating profusely. When I woke up, I saw Brooks sitting in front of the bed waiting for me, and the towel fell from my forehead and fell to the ground without a sound.

"How does it feel? Hua。 ”

I saw a white clock on the wall, the black hour hand pointed to "2", the minute hand pointed to "6", and the thinnest and longest second hand was still spinning and turning.

I cried again. I hugged Brooks, and the long backlog and fear of nightmares kept me crying.

When others cry, they always call each other's names, and they always call out a person's name, or family, or lover, or friend, to send out the feelings of grievance and pain.

But I didn't, I didn't call anyone right, it didn't conform to my rules, so I could only cry loudly.

My back was sticky, my straw mat was sticky, and the hot summer in New York came as scheduled under my neglect, revealing all the "scars" I had hidden in the past, and I was like a fish stripped in the daylight.

In the process of human growth, it seems to be constantly deviating, and finally forming the way it should be.

I told Brooks that I hated the people who hurt me, but the more I hated them, the harder I felt about myself.

He told me that God is love and forgiveness.

I don't believe in Christ, I can't understand it, and I'm not willing to forgive them. Why should I forgive those who have hurt me?

It was already dark in New York, and the night was a wound to God.

I still feel so lonely when I talk to Brooks about my past at night, but when I think about someone sharing my joys and sorrows, the weight of loneliness seems to lighten again? I've had to go back and forth between these two emotions countless times.

More and more times, it was very hot outside, and it was still afternoon, and there was always a cry of knowledge on the camphor trees outside. I would always have all kinds of strange nightmares, and then I would wake up in bed, the sweat on my back sticking to my underwear and clothes, and I would be alone in the room, and I would suddenly cry and cry.

A man is a desert island, as Borges said. I was alone in New York, drifting alone, like a shadow in the crowd that would disappear and fall at any moment.