Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Three

Perry stumbled back to the apartment with two bottles of Wild Turkey whiskey—one still full, the other half-empty.The violence that has accumulated in his body for a long time is like a safe hanging on the top of a 15-story building, precarious, and may fall into the noisy street at any time. Friday night, party night. Perry put the wine on the kitchen table and went into the bathroom.The vomit on the bathroom floor had already formed hard lumps, mixed with patches of dried blood.The bathtub was three inches high with water, lifeless as a pool of stagnant water in a pond, except for the dripping drips from the shower head that caused circles of ripples.The drain was clogged with a mass of orange-yellow dead flesh.There were also bits of skin floating on the surface of the filthy sudsy water.He heard the thin trickle of water from the drain, pouring out of the gaps in that disgusting orange-yellow plug.

He didn't notice any of this in the shower.This piece of yellow dead flesh had clearly fallen off from his body.He touched the collarbone lightly with his hand, feeling the hard outline of the triangle.It felt more defined, with more defined edges, and a more pronounced blue, still pale but clearly showing through the skin, like a faded tattoo. He walked back to the kitchen and picked up a knife from the knife block, his eyes lingering again on the thick handle and blunt blade of the chicken shears.He is dying.But he still has so many things he hasn't done and experienced.He had never been to Germany, never gone deep-sea fishing, never visited the Alamo, or any of the historic American colonial sites.He is not married.There are no children.

But not everything is so bad.He lives life to the fullest.He is the first child in his family to go to college.He was a former Division I football player, was on CNN, and fulfilled his childhood dream of being a member of the Werewolves.But most importantly, he escaped from his father's brutal life.He surpassed his environment, surpassed his destiny, constantly strives for self-improvement, and wins people's respect by unremitting progress. but for what?There's no reason, that's it. He sat down at the kitchen table, put the knife on the table, and took a long gulp from the half-empty wine bottle.The wine was very rushing, causing a sudden sharp pain in his throat, but these feelings did not arouse the reaction of his brain at all, and he quickly poured the rest of the wine into his stomach like drinking cold boiled water.He had already been carried away by the wild turkey whiskey, and he knew that when he drank the bottle he would be as drunk as a slush.

And then, he will no longer feel pain. Desperate tears almost burst out of my eyes.It's not fair!He don't cry!My father never cried a single time during his battle with cancer, and if he didn't cry, neither would Perry. The wild turkey whiskey begins to exert as much potency as its pungent taste.Perry felt dizzy and had tingling pain in his limbs.His brain was in chaos, his thoughts were tangled.He sat for a while longer, trying to control his emotions. The alcohol had begun to take effect, gradually controlling his brain. He picked up the knife. The blade is about 10 inches long, and it shines brightly in the fluorescent light from the kitchen ceiling, making it seem like each tooth is sparkling.Whenever he cooks chicken or beef, he uses this sharp butcher knife to cut through raw meat with little effort.Perry wondered if the knife was just as unstoppable when it was used to cut human flesh, especially the thin layer of skin on his calf bone.

His vision started to blur a bit, and he shook his head.He actually wanted to use a butcher knife to cut himself?The power of this little alcohol should not be underestimated.But yes, he was going to cut himself, just to get rid of something in him that wasn't his own. He's dying, it's a foregone conclusion, so let it be!But he's going to die with the bastard's triangle.It's time to turn the damn "Six Samurai" into the "Five Tigers".Perry burst into a burst of laughter - if you want to reduce the team lineup, you have to "cut" and then quickly.

He opened the silver drawer and took out a fork.He poured the last drops of whiskey from the bottle into his mouth, and as soon as the alcohol was in his throat, it burned down the road and into his stomach.He tossed the bottle aside and proceeded to cut the leg of his jeans with a knife.Denim offers little resistance to this blade.In a matter of seconds, his trousers were torn in two, exposing a sturdy leg. Perry's calf was raised and resting on the kitchen table, it looked like a pot of roast meat for dinner.His calf touched the wooden table and felt a chill.The wild turkey whiskey was picking up, buzzing in his head like a swarm of lazy bumblebees.He knew that if he didn't do it quickly, he'd be doing nothing but gibbering and drooling and passed out.

The time has come to act. Perry took a few deep breaths and made up his mind.He knew he was crazy now, but what was that to someone who was going to die?He prodded the triangle with a fork, and it was no different from when he had checked it earlier. "Do you want to kill me?" Perry said to himself, "No, no, no, my good brother, I will kill you." He poked the fork into the skin hard enough to hold the triangle in place.The three metal prongs of the fork sank deeply into the triangle of blue skin. There are some small rust marks on the knife.He had never noticed them before.He noticed now, and suddenly noticed many small details, such as the scratches on the wooden handle; such as the two silver rivets that hold the comfortable wooden handle to the blade; All wandering in a soft, warm, brown stream.

He slashed his shin hard before realizing what he was doing, staring drunkenly at a 2-inch incision.A stream of hot blood gushed out from the wound, itching, flowing down his calf, spilling onto the table, and dripping onto the white linoleum floor, forming a sticky puddle of blood.The sound of blood dripping made him aware of the pain, which was intense but seemed very distant—it had nothing to do with him, like Perry curled up on the sofa, covered with a thick blanket, holding a Coke in one hand and Holding the remote control, it's like watching the painful scenes on TV. He felt himself sitting in the autopilot of the plane, gliding through the air like a bystander, examining this grotesque behavior.He didn't expect to lose so much blood.The calf was dripping with blood, covering the originally pale skin, blurring the edge of the triangle, but he still poked the fork down vigorously, grabbed the knife and slammed the calf again.Another gust of blood splashed out and flowed down the table to the floor.This time the pain didn't feel out of reach, not at all.Perry gritted his teeth and tried to control himself, to end this.

Blood spattered the hilt and his hand.He heard the rhythmic ticking of his own blood dripping onto the floor under the table. "How does it feel, you little bastard?" Perry's voice was thick and slurred. "How does it feel? Do you like it? You want to kill me? No way, I'll kill you first! You have to have some self-control." Perry collected himself, sobered himself and concentrated his thoughts, so that he could proceed to the next step.Even though he was drunk, his hands were still very strong and strong - he still seemed to be very good at this. He frowned slightly, and some dusty memories wandered in his mind, as if something in a dream wanted to sneak into his existing consciousness.He shook those thoughts away, staring back at the bloody fork and blade.The second knife had turned one side of the triangle up like a hinge on a door - he poked the knife under the upturned corner of the triangle and turned it over like a piece of bloody bacon in a frying pan .

Everything in front of him froze him, and a sigh came out of his mouth, like the air leaking from a punctured tire. "It seems that the harvest is not small!" He stared at the itching thing that had made him weep like a trapped beast... that was driving him closer to death.Blood gushes out and runs around the dark blue triangular mass.Perry wiped away the surging blood and wanted to take a closer look. It was dark blue and shimmering, though that shimmer might have come from the blood-soaked reflection rather than its true color.The appearance of the triangle is not smooth, rough and twisted... It looks extremely evil, like the intertwined roots of a tree exposed on the surface of the soil, or the texture of a messy tangled steel cable.

Instinctive fear aroused his waking consciousness.It's a "completely different ball game, and this shit is from a very different league than that thick yellow blister".There's no way his body could have grown it, it certainly wouldn't—so where did it come from? Perry let out a roar, roaring like an enraged beast, and roughly pushed the fork under the bloody blue mass, and the metal point pierced his own flesh, and there was a violent explosion in an instant. pain.He had never felt the pain so intense, so rampant, and so overwhelming, but he couldn't care less, and instead focused on the nasty thing hiding in his calf. Grit your teeth and stick to it! He felt the prongs of the fork feel a slight resistance from the triangular stem, and he slowly began to weave around until the fork was tightly wrapped around the stem, the bloodstained prong poking from the other end below the triangle. out. The bloody wooden table made his calves feel cold and sticky.Perry lifted the fork and the triangle was easily lifted.However, the stem didn't move at all, and it was much stronger than before. It should take a lot of effort to pull it out. There was a piercing pain in his calf, and dense beads of sweat crept up Perry's cheeks.The pain was getting worse, but Perry gritted his teeth and vowed to get the damn thing out of his body, so he tugged on the fork again, but the stem remained motionless.Blood gurgled from the leg again, dripping into glistening puddles on the white linoleum floor. His head drooped to the side feebly, feeling a little bit starry-eyed.He closed his eyes, then shook his head, blinked vigorously, finally regained his balance, and his vision became clear.He was almost on the verge of passing out.Had he ever lost so much blood?He began to feel dizzy, whether it was the wild turkey whiskey or the blood loss.He felt that his willpower was getting weaker and weaker. He poked the fork deeper so that the prongs protruded from the other end long enough for him to grasp with his other hand.He gripped the ends of the fork with both hands, as if he was gripping a bent barbell, and started doing a quick set.The thick muscles in his arms tightened suddenly, and he took a deep breath, then yanked. He heard a ripping sound, and then the frenzy of a nuclear explosion filled his legs.The stem was pulled off.The recoil knocked Perry's chair over.He hit the ground hard. If the blood had flowed like a gurgling stream before—now it was gushing, this time from his calf.He couldn't help but his eyes darkened. The bleeding must be stopped quickly.I don't want to die on the kitchen floor... He took off his T-shirt and bent over, his ass and legs covered in blood and making a mess of the linoleum floor.Perry wrapped his bleeding calf with a T-shirt, tied it in a knot, and pulled it tight with all his might.His roar of pain echoed through the small apartment. He lay down, his whole body curled up in pain, and his eyes began to turn black again.He felt lethargic. He fell on the bloody floor, his chest still rising and falling rhythmically with his breathing.