I thought about it carefully, and I had two choices: the first was to stay alert at all times, to be alert to any changes in the surroundings at all times, and to react immediately as long as there is a slight movement; the second was to leave it alone and sleep, do whatever you want, everything was up to fate.
I have considered the consequences of the two options. If I choose the first one, I may temporarily save my life, but if I live nervously all day long, I will inevitably become a neurotic one day; if I choose the second one, although it is not that tired, but it is uncertain when I will become a guest in the morgue. Originally, I planned to do as the single mother said, as a relief after death, but when I really wanted to do this, I found that it was actually not so free and easy.
I was frowning and distressed, not knowing what choice to make.
I looked at the clock. It was past 12 in the morning. Is everyone else in the supermarket asleep? Or some are awake like me, facing difficult choices like me?
I was in a daze when I suddenly heard a heavy footstep from the bathroom.
Was someone going to the toilet? However, why did he walk so slowly, and it took a long time to hear the second footsteps, as if how difficult it was for him to take a step, who was it...
My breathing stopped, and my blood seemed to stop flowing temporarily. I suddenly realized a problem--if someone went to the bathroom, then I should have heard his footsteps "going" to the bathroom before, instead of just hearing his footsteps coming out of the bathroom like I did now.
Who would just come out of the bathroom? Moreover, why were this person's footsteps so strange, one step, one step...walking slowly and dully, like a walking corpse.
Walking corpse? There was a chill all over my body--God, how could I come up with such a terrible but such appropriate word?
The heavy and slow footsteps continued, and the fear in my heart had reached its peak. I didn’t understand, didn’t anyone else hear it? Still someone heard it, but didn't attract attention like me?
I was horrified and frightened to hear the footsteps going in a certain direction, and I judged in my heart how far away the person walking was. Would he suddenly appear in front of me?
The scary thing was that the sound of this footstep made it difficult for me to judge--it was suddenly far and near, weak and sometimes strong, and the only constant was the slow rhythm. There was no vitality, no change, and even no breath of life. My fragile nerves were tortured to the point of collapse.
Suddenly, the terrifying footsteps stopped abruptly again, just like when it happened, coming and going without a trace.
I waited quietly until 12:30, the sound of footsteps did not appear again, my tightly hanging heart was relieved, but the whole person seemed to be drained and weakened. I felt exhausted for a moment, but I didn't know what to do next, whether to stay vigilant, or to fall into a dream--the contradictory choice was before me again.
Suddenly, I felt that facing choices was not the most painful; when you seem to have choices, but you can't actually choose, it is the most painful.
Half-dreaming and half-awake, I heard shouts and screams. Opening my eyes, I saw several people surrounded by the wall on the left front, and my instinct told me that something happened again.
I lifted the "quilt" on my body, got up from the ground, hurriedly moved closer, stepped forward to take a look, and my brain exploded with a "buzz".
Another new victim was born, the fat woman. Her death looked almost exactly the same as that of the strong man, horrified with round eyes, and open mouth. The only difference is that the deadly fruit knife is not stuck in her neck, but in the middle of her heart.
Although I was somewhat psychologically prepared before, when I saw another victim who died tragically, I still felt shocked and dizzy.
Almost all the people in the supermarket gathered around now, several people covered their mouths, and their fear was beyond words.
"Who discovered her first?" the middle-aged man asked.
"It's... it's me." The boyfriend of the fashion girl said in amazement, "I woke up earlier. When I thought of coming here to get a drink, I saw her... was killed."
The middle-aged man squatted down and touched the hands and feet of the corpse, and said: "Her limbs are completely stiff. It seems that she has been dead for several hours--she was killed in the night."
The fashionable girl seemed to be a little untenable, and her body shook: "She ... how could she be killed?" Her tone sounded a little funny, as if the strong man before was supposed to be killed.
"We have a murderer here. He doesn't need a reason to kill." The single mother said in a low voice.
"Oh my God, how could this be..." The female clerk covered her mouth with tears in her eyes, "So, any of us could be killed?"
Her words made my heart tremble, and I shuddered. For a moment, I was really almost misled by what she said. I believed there was a perverted murderer who didn't need a reason to kill, but at any rate I calmed down in time and let the rational thinking in my mind take the lead. I could do this because a few words the fat woman said yesterday came to my mind:
"I believe that no matter what happens, there will always be traces. I don't believe that someone killed someone in this closed supermarket, and there will be no clues left. I want to find out this matter and see who is it. The real murderer!"
I took a deep breath, I thought, I kind of understand why she was killed.
Suddenly, my heart shook again--yes, the fat woman told me mysteriously last night that she had already found out what she was investigating, and if she just follows the clue, she will find out the murderer--she was killed by the murderer within a few hours after she said this. Obviously, the murderer also felt that her presence was a threat. But—I was a little puzzled—if I'm not wrong, the investigation of the fat women should be aimed at the red-haired man, that is to say, the red-haired man was the most threatening. Now that she has been killed, was the murderer really...
My eyes rolled a few times in the sockets, and then I couldn't help but glanced at the red-haired man. Unexpectedly, he just happened to see me. I was shocked and quickly retracted the gaze, but he stared at me fiercely and asked: "Hey, what do you mean by looking at me with that kind of eyes?"
Everyone looked over at the two of us, and I nervously and embarrassedly defended: "No... I just... looked over accidentally, it's meaningless."
The red-haired man said, "Do you think I am the murderer?"
I trembled, and the horror in my heart became even worse. The middle-aged man came over and said to the red-haired man: "Hey, she said she didn't mean that. Why are you still reluctant?"
The red-haired man lighted a cigarette, turned around and said coldly: "Huh, you don't treat me as a good person anyway, right?"
I didn't want him to dwell on this issue anymore, so as not to resent me. I turned the subject off and asked everyone, "By the way, did you hear footsteps last night?"
The boyfriend of the fashion girl said: "Someone gets up to go to the bathroom at night, and of course we will hear footsteps.
I shook my head and said, "No, it is not ordinary footsteps, but some slow, dull, lifeless, weird footsteps."
The fashionable girl said, "Don't be so scary, okay? The current situation is scary enough."
"But the footsteps I heard are really like this..."
The single mother, the fashionable girl and her boyfriend facing me glanced at each other with a blank face. The boyfriend of the fashion girl shook his head and said, "None of us heard the weird footsteps you said."
I was very surprised: "How is this possible? Although the voice is not too loud, it is very clear. How can it be?"
He said: "It's not because you were sleepy, right?"
When he said that, I was really a little unsure whether what happened last night was real or illusory. I only remember that it was indeed a little half-dream and half-awake. But anyway, I was very impressed by the horrible footsteps, but now it was not clear whether the impression came from dreams or reality. I regrated not pinching my thigh to confirm it last night.
While I was secretly annoyed, I accidentally glanced at the female clerk next to me, and found her head down, a trace of confusion on her face—clearly responding to what I just said—but only for a moment, this unnatural expression was concealed by her, and she returned to her pitiful appearance. I was secretly suspicious, I didn't know why she had such a weird performance, and why she had to cover it up deliberately.
The middle-aged man said at this moment: "Forget it, don't talk about it now, let's carry her to the storage room first."
I sighed in my heart--now the situation was getting more and more complicated. The target of my suspicion began to fluctuate, and I didn’t know who I was more suspicious. But I know that there was not much time for us to solve the mystery--there were already three bodies in the storage room.
Amy (9.4) - Text
Guo Yutong - Zeichnung