"Thomas Elliott!" Bruce called out his name, let go of his hand, threw Roman to the ground, rolled forward at a rapid pace, and punched Thomas in the jaw before his foot hit the ground as he came in through the window.

Thomas already had a prosthetic leg of Gang'an, and he didn't have that much time to get used to his prosthetic leg, and as soon as his toes touched the ground, he suffered a heavy blow to his chin, unable to stabilize his center of gravity, and fell straight backwards.

Bruce stepped forward and grabbed him by the hair, dragged him into the house, and slammed his head against the wall.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! ”

When Bruce let go of his hand, he stood there and took a deep breath, he looked at Thomas, who was lying on the ground with a bloody face, and muttered in a low voice: "The textbook says that violence can vent stress...... The textbook is right. ”

He touched his nose with his hand, turned around, and dragged Roman out of the door, but as soon as he opened it, he saw Mrs. Miller's eyes wide.

Bruce hesitated to do something, but Mrs. Miller immediately took a step back, pointed to the hallway, and said, "Go ahead, turn right, emergency access, the key is under the blanket." ”

"Thank you, ma'am."

Mrs. Miller looked at Bruce and dragged the man out, and as she repositioned the teacup on the tray in her hand, Bruce paused and looked up at Mrs. Miller.

Mrs. Miller looked at him condescendingly and said, "Don't worry, I've seen too many doctors in my life, and many of them dissect cadavers in their offices, perhaps because they don't have to follow the rules of the operating room there." ”

Bruce pursed his lips, ashamed of the fuss that had just risen in his heart, and he dragged Roman to the emergency passage, then returned, dragging the other two inside.

Then. Mrs. Miller had already placed the tray on the coffee table, and looking at the broken glass, she pointed to the window as she walked out, and said, "I'll call someone to fix it." ”

Bruce shook his head and looked at her and said, "It's better not to ...... in the near future."

"Bang! Crash! ”

Bruce clenched his fists and turned to look at the window, where another dark figure rolled in.

Bruce lowered his head and took a deep breath, stretched his hand wide, walked quickly to the couch, picked up the scalpel he had thrown earlier, and then rushed to the window, sticking the scalpel into the back of the shadow's hand gripping the window frame.

Ignoring the screams in front of him, Bruce pulled out his scalpel and punched him in the nose, turning around and walking back into the house without looking at his figure falling downstairs.

Mrs. Miller, who was standing by the door, watched his series of movements, shook her head gently as Bruce turned back, and beckoned to Hallie in the room.

Hallie didn't seem to want to go at all, but as Mrs. Miller's eyebrows rose higher and higher, the little girl could only hang her hand, sigh, and follow Mrs. Miller away.

Before Mrs. Miller left, she left only one sentence: "I will have the newsboy bring tomorrow's breakfast with the newspaper." ”

Bruce stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the mess in the office and sighing deeply.

But what he didn't expect was that this disaster was just the beginning.

For the next week, Bruce didn't even get a chance to leave the office, except for eating and going to the bathroom, and he struggled with the serial murderer every moment.

Bruce felt that his understanding of the arrogant Schiller was still a little superficial.

At first, he thought that his professor had asked him to deal with so many horrific murderers in his dreams, and he expected that one day, he would have to face the sick Schiller.

But now he finds that this is not the case, no matter how perverted the sick Schiller is, he is only one person, and arrogance does not need to let Bruce face so many serial killers teaming up, and since he has done so, it means that he may have expected today's situation a long time ago.

For the rest of the week, Bruce used the techniques he had learned in the dream world to deal with serial killers against a steady stream of serial murderers.

】

Bruce felt as if he was trapped in a strange space where there was nothing but a serial murderer.

But this space does not affect reality, at least not Schiller's.

The psychiatrist was still on the clinic as usual, facing the bloodstains on the floor, covered in blood, and the haggard Bruce, as if he didn't see it, he still wrote medical records, reviewed the course of treatment, and went to the clinic on time and on time.

When some faint sunlight poured into the room through the glassless windows, Schiller, dressed in a crimson suit, sat on a single sofa and read the newspaper, with the food delivered by the newsboy in the morning in front of him.

Across from him, Bruce, who hadn't closed his eyes for almost seven days, was also gobbling up food.

The space is divided into two by a coffee table, and Schiller on this side, wearing a spotless suit, buttons every cufflink, his tie is not crooked, and he is unhurriedly flipping the newspaper.

Bruce, on the other hand, was haggard and scary, and since returning from the slums, Bruce had retained his half-length hair, but his hair was wet from the previous fight with the serial murderer in the bathroom, and it was now sticking to his forehead one by one.

Seven or eight days without shaving, so that the thick stubble covered his entire chin, combined with his gobbling expression, he looked like a complete homeless man.

Schiller closed the newspaper slightly, raised his eyelids to look like Bruce, and asked, "How long are you going to stay here?" ”

Bruce stopped chewing, his eyes sunken in the arch of his eyebrows, stared straight at Schiller, and said, "Wait until you send me an invitation." ”

"You know what? Arrogant said that you are a tough seed. Schiller shook his head lightly and said, "This paranoid personality may cause you to slide into the abyss, making you unable to judge rationally what kind of situation you are in." ”

Bruce just looked at him in silence, and Schiller looked down at the newspaper and said to himself, "You were pleasantly surprised this morning when I brought over a plate of vegetable salad. ”

Schiller raised his head, looked at his office, and said: "In a confined environment, in the face of a person who you can't resist, the standard will always drop again and again, this is a typical Stockholm plot, the more paranoid you are, the deeper you will be pulled." ”

Bruce closed his eyes, he lowered his head, then turned his head away, and all sorts of hallucinations flashed before his eyes.

It can be said that if it weren't for the fact that his spirit had been tempered a thousand times, he would have slipped into another abyss by now, as Schiller said.

Schiller placed the folded newspaper on the coffee table, and the corner of the newspaper crossed the dividing line in the middle of the coffee table, and stabbed the other half of the space like a knife, stabbing into Bruce's body.

"Tomorrow at 9 o'clock in the evening, the banquet will start on time, all my friends will be there, and tonight at 11 o'clock, I will go out, you should understand, you can't stop me, don't do useless work."

With that, Schiller stood up and turned to walk towards the lounge, where Bruce squeezed a breath out of his throat and leaned back on the couch, raising his arms to cover his eyes.

His current state of emaciation, and his fight against serial killers, or his sleeplessness, didn't matter, Schiller put too much pressure on him.

Bruce then leaned forward again, propped his hands on his elbows, and covered his face with his hands.

He remembered that when he was in the slums, he had been in the same room with Schiller, and that the situation was the same as it is now.

He had already seen in textbooks that a confined space would make people feel the emotions transmitted by the other person more clearly, and when trapped in a confined space and unable to leave, the pressure would increase exponentially.

Huge pressure with the situation of not being able to resist will stimulate the human body's self-protection system, since you can't change the other party, then change yourself, people's thinking will automatically lower their own standards, to cooperate with the other party, in exchange for a short period of comfort.

Schiller's words just now made Bruce's mental defense, which had been pushed to the brink, collapse.

Because this morning, when he saw Schiller bring in two plates of very pure vegetable salad, he almost cried tears of joy.

Bruce's sanity was telling him that this was not normal at all, but many times, reason was not yet applicable to ordinary people, and it was even more unrealistic to expect him to be able to control a mentally ill person.

Bruce sat quietly on the sofa like this, the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him changed light and shadow, and one after another Bruce appeared beside him.

Some stood in front of the window and punched the serial killer who tried to come in, some bent down and dragged the knocked down serial killer out of the room, and some half-knelt on the ground and cleaned up the glass shards.

Countless figures came and went in the room, but only one unusual figure, holding a wine glass, stood in front of the door in the corner of the room, quietly watching all this, it was Schiller.

Bruce turned his head at an extremely slow pace, looking through countless fragments of space and time to see Schiller's eyes.

With a "snap", the illusion in front of him was shattered, and when Bruce came to his senses, he found himself in a cold sweat, and Schiller, who had just come out of the lounge, glanced down at his watch and walked quickly to the office door.

Bruce reluctantly turned his head to look at the window, the morning light had long since disappeared, replaced by bright moonlight, and then he looked up at the clock hanging on the wall of his office, it was 10:52, and it was 8 minutes before 11 o'clock.

Schiller's hand was already on the doorknob of the office, and the moment his arm turned the doorknob, the whole office seemed to be congealed by something.

Unaffected, Bruce stood up, came up behind Schiller and said to him, "You can't go out and kill people, Professor. ”

The doorknob didn't stop turning, and Bruce, who was standing there, shook his head vigorously and said, "No, it won't work." ”

Then he strode forward and reached out to touch Schiller's shoulder, but the next second, the world swirled, and he found himself lying on the floor, Schiller looking at him condescendingly, holding a blood-stained boning knife in his hand.

The pain that wasn't there woke Bruce up, and by this time, Schiller had pushed the door open a small crack.

Bruce stood up and quickly walked behind Schiller, and after Schiller pushed the door open, he did not leave immediately, but stood outside the door and turned to look at Bruce behind him, his closed eyelids, and those barren gray eyes, like an ultimatum.

Bruce opened his mouth slightly and said:

"You don't have to go out."