C33 The Beginning of Another Nightmare

Painting!

That exit!

The door to memories! The door with 43 written in chalk in the middle of the house!

In the interrogation room, 44 was responsible for drawing.

43 The task is to receive and receive brain waves.

The one who drew was the skinny Alpha who was holding a crayon.

"Oh …" "Wake him up …" Lina grabbed onto my clothes, desperately resisting the invasion of my brain waves, he stammered his tongue out!

Who could have painted that door on the wall?

Not 43. com.

With its character, it would never let me see anything about him.

The door to my memories was drawn by Alpha.

From birth, to being brought to the Spring of Life as a test subject, to receiving training and elimination …

He let me see memories, maybe just to tell me they weren't born monsters.

They had once been human, but they had been turned into monsters by human desires, by the cruelty of war.

That door of hell was filled with scars.

He, too, had yearned to be loved.

"I heard the officers outside say that their children all had names. Their children are named by their parents. "

"Dr. Mengele said we didn't need a name and we didn't need a mother."

"Brother, I really want to have a name. Can I give you a name? "

"I don't need a name."

In the dark room of the camp, 43 His eyes were full of longing as he said this.

Wishing to grow up in good wishes, yearning to be treated with gentleness, yearning to be held in the arms of parents.

"Can I give you a name?"

43 did not refuse.

So the younger brother gave the older brother a name, which was their secret, and it was only in the deepest night that it was lightly called up.

But no one had mentioned the name since the death of 44.

After a very, very long time, 43 left the Spring of Life farm, walked a long way, and killed many people.

After a very long time, he also gradually forgot his own name.

"Peter! "No!" I shouted.

It was too late, the gunshot rang out.

Blood trickled down his forehead and onto the ground, forming a red flower.

My ears buzzed, and I heard Lina's crying in a trance.

Peter... Is it? What a good name.

I should have known.

The cat was the skinniest of all the cats. His eyes were smeared with poop, and we all thought he wouldn't live long.

He had never been cared for by his mother. Like a child who didn't exist, he had been isolated by the other cats in a corner of the box.

The natural instinct of a female was for her to care for the strongest child, and the weakest one had been abandoned as soon as she was born.

However, Alpha paid special attention to it and gave it a name:

Peter.

In order to make Peter stronger, Alpha closed the door to the storage room, letting it fight in hunger with the other kittens.

Only by becoming the strongest can you be loved, right?

In the concentration camps more than 50 years ago, 43 was thinking the same thing?

Perhaps only a child who satisfied Dr. Mengele, the person he should have called his father, would smile and embrace him.

"I know Peter can do it."

"If you don't kill others, others will kill you. In order to survive, one must have the awareness to face this cruel world. "

"Do monsters not have the right to live?"

"Why not blame the mother who had only one nipple to give birth to it? Why not blame the humans who cut off the other tits of the cat mother? Peter just wants to live. He's already died once and turned into a monster. Would it be fair to abandon him now? "

I should have known then.

Alpha saw his brother on that kitten.

Alpha loved his brother. It was not that his personality was not as strong as 43, but that he understood 43 more than anyone else's pain.

He could see beneath his indestructible body the shattered heart of a blind kitten.

"Alpha... Is that you? "

Lina crawled to Alpha's side.

There was a bullet hole in his temple that had ruined half of his delicate face.

Just now, at the moment I called out "Peter," 43 stopped for a second.

In that second, what appeared was Alpha's personality, he had shot himself right in the head.

"... "Cough …" Alpha choked on blood, and seemed to be talking to himself. He looked at the ceiling in a daze, and said to himself:

"..." Enough... End it all... I will... With you... "Cough, cough …"

Lina held Alpha's head, and his tears fell onto his face.

"Is there lightning …" "So dark..." Alpha's eyes began to slowly widen, "Lin … Can you call me by my name again? "

Lina held Alpha's head and sobbed, "I'm sorry, but you showed me that chalk drawing in your dreams … You told me his name was Peter, and you said it was a secret between the two of us... Sorry … Alpha... "

Alpha forced out a smile. "I said … "It will protect you..."

"Cough, cough …" I love the name... Alpha... Like to Listen... You called me … I... Can own... "Is that the name?"

"I... Can you call me Mama... "Is that so?"

Lina stroked Alpha's hair, his golden hair was dyed red with blood.

"Alpha... "No mother …" Alpha seemed to be unable to hear Lina's voice and he would not be able to persevere any longer.

I tried to pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe the blood off my face, but I found a folded piece of paper.

Lightning flashed in my mind, that's a picture of Vadoma!

Vadoma, did you know what was going to happen today?

"Alpha! Look, this is a picture of your mother! She never thought of abandoning you! She is the Gypsy, she has always... She's always been looking for you. She never left you, and she may have been a little mentally ill when she was in the camp, but she never left the neighborhood! She never abandoned you! "

In the photo, Vadoma, no, her real name was Lillian. She was sitting next to the twins, and even though she was afraid of Mengele, she still held onto the crib tightly.

She was crazy when she found Lillian.

The security guard said that Lillian had been trying to find a child for days, and she hadn't given up until she was completely blind.

Even if Lillian had gone mad, she would never have forgotten her two children.

"Your mother, she is called, Lillian …" DOPA! She's been looking for you all these years! "

I brought the photo closer to Alpha's face. His empty eyes seemed to flash for a moment.

"She... "Where …"

I was momentarily at a loss for words. A few seconds passed. She died two days ago. I'm sorry. "

"No …." Relationship, Now... To be able to see … "Mom …"

His eyes gradually became lax.

"..." Bring... "I'll stay with my brother here …"

His hand slipped out of Lina's hand.

Outside, the rain had stopped, and a flock of birds seemed to pass through the dark night sky.

23 February 1988

Lina and I packed our luggage and left the Joshua Tower in the early morning.

Four hours later, a piece of news was broadcast on the news: Downtown, the top floor of the Joshua Tower had exploded due to aging pipelines, and the fire engine had put out the fire four hours later. So far, two bodies had been found, with the initial suspicion that an 87 year old German woman and a Mexican security guard were on the sixth floor …

From February 23 to the end of the year, my parents left California for a small southern town.

Although my parents were always a little doubtful about the news that only found two corpses, it was an indisputable fact that Alpha shot himself in front of them. However, right now, they are most worried about me in their stomachs.

Even though the United States passed the National Abortion Act in 1973, many states still refuse to enforce it because of faith issues. Especially in the conservative southern states, abortion was almost tantamount to murder. My father, through the connection of Haomin Senior Brother, contacted a private clinic that was willing to be operated on.

However, the ultrasound before the operation showed that the fetus was in good condition.

My father and mother found it hard to believe. They went to a few more hospitals, but the results were exactly the same.

Then my parents decided to believe the report and take a risk. When my mother was twenty weeks pregnant, they did a detailed examination.

It was a girl.

But when my parents were at their best, my father found out that something was wrong with his body.

One day, when my father was chopping vegetables, he accidentally cut his finger with a knife.

At that time, the kitchen knife was newly bought. It was especially sharp, and the wound on his finger was so deep that one could almost see the bone.

But no blood.

Surprised, my father cut open his palm with the kitchen knife. Similarly, not a single drop of blood came out.

He remembered what he had said.

"What did you pay as a 'sacrifice' before you arrived at the 'door'?"

He said that he had given "time," so that he never grew old again, and that his "time" had stopped.

My father remembered that at the moment he was injected, he saw a drop of blood that was infinitely magnified.

The "sacrifice" he paid was "blood".

So the blood was gone from his body.

A person without blood, how could he still be considered human?

Just what was that door? Where does it go? Why was it only visible for a split-second after being injected?

Even though my father had a hundred questions in his mind, he had concealed them from my mother before she died.

One night at the end of 1988, my mother broke her amniotic fluid in the middle of the night, a week earlier than expected.

My father rushed her to the hospital. The doctor said I was in the wrong place and my mother had been in there for six hours.

My father was in the hallway, smoking one cigarette after another, from nine in the evening to the early hours of the morning.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, a young nurse woke him up and told him that someone had asked her to give him a letter.

My father had no acquaintances in the South, and had barely made friends in the year he'd moved in.

Inside was a photograph — a large photo standing in front of the hospital.

There were children of different ages on it. They were all dressed in the same clothes and shoes. Under the sunlight, everyone was laughing very happily.

In the middle of this group of children stood an aged doctor. His hair was meticulously combed back, and he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. When he smiled, a row of white teeth could be seen.

Dr. Mengele!

He was holding a child, but the child's face was hidden by the crowd in front of him.

Behind the photo, there was a childish word:

Dear Shin:

Maybe you've forgotten that I told you my time had stopped.

The gun won't kill me, but I thank you anyway.

Thank you for killing my last conscience.

I found my father.

ps:

Cherish time. One day you and your child will be mine. I'll come to you, and the things you took.

No signature.

On the photo, Mengele had written in Portuguese and English on the back — "The Twins' House, Saint José's Clinic, Brazil."

Mengele was not dead.

After the war, he changed his name and fled to Brazil, where he continued his research.

My father gasped.

What followed was my crying in the delivery room.