The tick was hiding in her armpits, it was hard to see even if its cheek was close to her arm, it could only be touched, almost all of it was in it, it was soft to the touch, Lila closed her eyes, she knew that it had drunk her blood, and its little beige body swelled up, and from it the deep rose red of dead blood came out.

She stroked it with her fingertips, looking for its eight little feet, the little feet moved, the monastery was so quiet at night, the sound of breathing was clear, she felt the tick, studied its position, her nails had never been cut flat, she held the piece of flesh and dug down hard—the tick twisted and screamed—Lulu, Billy, Marianne, they stood in the dark, looking at her with concern.

Did you dig it out? No, Lila's fingers were covered with blood, and there was a lot of blood, and she got up from the bed, her toes on the cold, hard stone floor, and the silver-gray moonlight was projected on her through that small, towering window, and the cross hung from the wall, and the crucified Jesus was looking at her, looking at the bleeding girl, and she looked down at her hand, groped for the wound, and carefully tore it, and the blood left the wound, and it was black and cold.

It meandered past where Jesus had been pricked, slid over her hip bones, along the groin, wet the thick hair, Lulu began to cry, the women of Strong Jacob used to burn them with matches, because it was a symbol of lewdness, the blood continued to seep, condensed at the ends of the hair, and then trickled down the thighs, Marianne laughed wistfully in the dark, the saint Jared wanted her to be a prostitute of Strong Jacob, but her body was never acquired by any of the Strong Jacobs, she escaped, A long-distance truck driver is willing to risk taking her to the next city at the cost of her childhood, blood drying up on her knees, where she has long since healed, but Billy always remembers that every fasting day it is broken once.

Lila thought that if only she could kill Jared. Strong Jacob could put an end to her nightmare, which only they knew was impossible, and in their dreams blood flowed all over Strong Jacob's screw, the mines, the rivers, the house, and the church.

She stood on the ground, her head up, the bleeding stopped, the flesh wriggled and joined together, she wiped her body clean with the alcohol cotton she had brought with her, it was still a little painful, but it was already slight enough to be ignored.

Lila quickly fell asleep.

Her dreams were filled with the smell of blood.

It was a short dream, and she was awakened by screams and gunshots, and Lila got up from her bed and quickly put on her clothes.

There was a hurried knock on the door outside, and Lila stepped back as she opened it, and the black-robed monk was brutally pushed in, followed by two tall soldiers.

Even the room for the noble women was devoid of unnecessary furnishings and furniture, a small wooden bed, a small table for prayer and writing, kneeling mats, a tin kettle, well, you know, a ceramic night jug. There were crosses and icons on the walls, no lights on, but the moonlight was bright enough for everything to be seen at a glance, and one of the soldiers ordered the monk and Lila to stand at the other end of the room, and his companion went over to check the backpack that Lila had brought.

They all carried guns, not the usual hunting shotguns, but a stockless assault rifle, as the adult men of Strang Jacob had, and they used such guns to fight wolves and wild goats, and to fight infidels and degenerates who dared to escape from the palm of their hands.

When a light rosy undergarment was thrown out, the monk looked away.

The contents of Lila's backpack were nothing special, and she and the monk were driven under a cross vault, standing with the dean, the other monks who were silent, and the Boy Scouts, among whom were the head of the regiment and the instructor, who was bleeding from his forehead, and Charlie leaning against his father.

Under the dome hangs the rocking chair lamp, the light is uncertain.

The uninvited guests were apparently carefully disguised — their CADPAT digital camouflage uniforms and tactical vests were officially retired from the military two decades ago, and can be found in many gun shops or outdoor sports stores; Their weapons, the G36C short assault rifle, the FAMASF1 stockless assault rifle, the L22A1 carbine and the Glock17 pistol – these are dangerous gadgets that can be bought at any gun shop, sporting goods and department store, or even a temporary gun show in nearly thirty districts, as long as you have enough money in your hand.

The 13 districts are more lenient in gun control than the neighboring regions, and even if they are seen by the police, they can leave with a swagger as long as they have a gun license and a hunting permit, and the police will at most ask them to put their guns in bags.

The head of the regiment is a member of the Federal Rifle Association, and ten of the members of this association are retired soldiers, with a close relationship with the military, and a large amount of money is enough to influence part of the election. Having pushed for anti-gun restrictions on several occasions, the Treasury's magazine called them "the most powerful lobby outside the hospital" — and perhaps he would change his mind when he returned, if he could.

((One second to remember)