Chapter 107

If your secret was discovered by someone else, what would be your reaction in the next second?

I had never seen Bob with such an expression.

He shrank back forcefully, tightening the quilt in his arms, and then looked at me with a pleading gaze. He seemed to want to smile, using the most natural expression to buffer his inner emotions or perhaps to hide once more in front of me.

He kept struggling, with no way to retreat, as behind him was a hard wall and an iron bed frame.

In the end, he closed his eyes and collapsed powerlessly onto the bed, taking a deep breath. A sorrowful, heavy sigh escaped him, like the autumn wind causing flowers to wither, like time leaving no trace, turning hair white overnight. That kind of withered emotion had no vitality at all.

"You know?"

I looked at his haggard expression, not knowing how to respond for a moment, and slowly nodded.

Bob looked up at the slightly dim light above the hospital bed. The white ceiling light now appeared somewhat yellowish, with large black spots on it, which upon closer inspection were the accumulated corpses of light-attracted insects. He stared at it blankly for a while, a flash of despair passing through his hollow eyes.

"No need to be so cautious, I was just startled earlier. Based on my experience, this normal state should last for a while, and I won't suddenly revert to my past self."

Bob gave a bitter smile, looked at me, and said softly,

"Nancy, long time no see."

"Long time no see," I responded with a smile.

Even though we had met at noon, it felt like a long time since we last saw each other. This unique way of greeting made Zoey chuckle and stick out her tongue,

"Good evening, Mr. Moore."

Bob stared at Zoey for a long time, the fear quickly fading, and nodded, "Hello, Zoey."

"Mr. Moore, do you remember what happened at noon?"

Zoey asked in surprise, and even I couldn't help but become curious. Normally, people with schizophrenia or multiple personalities didn't know what their other self did, meaning they have no memory of it. However, a small number might have some vague memories.

"A little bit, like a dream. I can hardly distinguish between illusion and reality anymore. My brain is extremely exhausted, yet it seems to subconsciously know my state. This extreme split of self will eventually cause my brain to explode."

Bob explained, taking a sip from his cup and looking at it softly,

"Sometimes, I feel like my life is like the water in this cup. I used to comfort myself by thinking that having two of me meant my life was extended, but it made me very tired. I foolishly divided the water in the cup into two halves, and even spilled half of it in the process."

He gave a bitter smile, pressing the cup against his face, quietly feeling the temperature.

"Even in such a miserable state, I still quietly feel the warmth of life. Even if I die tomorrow, though I can't control it, there is still something good. I can still enjoy a moment of peace, and I still have Shirley... that silly girl, who pretends to be strong even though she's a crybaby. I've seen many girls like that, but why can't I forget her?"

"When you meet someone you truly love, you naturally won't forget her. It won't be affected by your state or controlled by illness. You'll subconsciously remember, like breathing."

I comforted him gently.

"An excellent metaphor. If I remember correctly, it was Alan's first play script in college. His writing was still very immature back then. So, you're here to ask about Alan, right?"

Bob tilted his head and smiled as if he had returned to his confident and relaxed state. But the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the visible fatigue betrayed him, revealing the unbearable burden and memories.

"When did this situation start? Shirley said it wasn't this severe before. Did it worsen after graduation in Shadow City? Why didn't you stay in Silverlight City back then?"

The true culprit of the True Love Entertainment Club murder case could be narrowed down to these people. Alan's whereabouts must be known by them, but I wasn't in a hurry to ask directly.

Firstly, I was still cautious, worried that Bob might intentionally hide something. Secondly, I wanted to know what happened after graduation, what happened after they left the old steel mill.

Thirdly, Bob was the closest to Alan among their group in college. Because Bob pursued my roommate, I knew Bob even before I met Alan.

Bob half-lay down, pulling the quilt closer to himself, changing to a more comfortable position, and sighed.

"I've been at the old steel mill since I can remember. Darkness, dampness, cold, hunger, and beatings filled my childhood. I saw children beaten to death and thrown off the cliff like garbage. I was so scared, not knowing when it would be my turn. What would I do then? Run? That would only make me die faster."

"I even thought, as long as I could die comfortably, without pain, that would be good."

Bob blinked, shivering slightly under the quilt, his pupils showing instinctive panic. He swallowed and continued.

"One day, I came up with a plan. I pretended nothing had happened, desperately trying to forget the bad things. That way, I would be the happiest child in the world. Living each day happily was still a day and living in constant fear was also a day. But I found I couldn't do it. I was still very scared. Nowadays, they call it an emotional outlet."

"So, I came up with another plan. I spent half my time being happy and half my time being scared. I wanted to give myself a chance to breathe. It worked pretty well. I was in a much better state than before. Over time, I found that this state was beyond my control. I started to forget things often, my emotions were unstable. One minute I was happy, the next I was crying."

"This was my luck, I guess. They thought I was crazy, so I wasn't chosen for drug testing on children because they couldn't see the effects. I wasn't chosen for blood draws or organ sales either. They said I was a fool, and if I infected others, they would have to deal with it."

"I was uncontrollably crazy, with a dog chain around my neck, tied to the door. The children beat and bullied me, venting all their fear, hatred, and disgust on me. I slept in the mud, drank rainwater, ate mud, and even foolishly drank their urine. I vaguely had a sense that death was the only relief, death was happiness. I wanted to die so badly. It was too painful. I was constantly splitting, unable to remember the morning or forgetting the night, the two of me constantly entangled."

"Until that day, I realized that when I developed the consciousness of two selves, I had already become their test subject."

Bob gave a bitter laugh, looking at me,

"Yes, I was a child used for drug testing, for psychiatric drugs."