Chapter 2 Chapter One

Sarah awoke from her deep sleep.Surprisingly quiet around, so quiet that she was surprised and even disturbed.She opened her eyes and looked at the small alarm clock beside the bed. The red number was flashing: 16:32. From the garden below came the sound of a dog barking, and it continued, lingering in the closed curved room. Quiet.When Sarah lived here, she would habitually turn on the radio in the kitchen and tune it to Channel 4. The talk shows on the radio sounded gentle and friendly, which made the place not so empty and lonely, especially in another place. It sounded like the house was full of elegant people from Hampshire, chatting.In a big city like Glasgow it might seem strange for burglars to visit a house like this, but in a closed village like Thornton Hall it makes sense.Sarah also strategically turns on all the lights: the hall, the stairs, everything out of her view.She has a gift for confusing and creating illusions.

Quiet.Now is not the time for thieves.The house sits on top of a hill and can be seen during the day, especially at this time of day, when the neighbors may still be outside, inspecting the gardeners at work in their respective fields, or chasing their fat pedigreed dog, only very confidently Or a very stupid thief would choose this time to break in. Sarah was exhausted and sleepy, and all she wanted to do was sleep.She wondered naively: Is the fuse blown in the kitchen, or is that old radio finally dead?Everything in this house is old and tired and in need of repair. So she concluded: the radio is broken.She closed her eyes with a smile, curled up under the fluffy duvet, turned over comfortably, and fell into a sweet dream again.

Her consciousness slipped silently into the warm darkness. Suddenly, there was a scratching sound from the stairs, and her eyes snapped open. She raised her head from the pillow and listened carefully. It was the sound of shoes scraping the carpet amplified by the stairwell. Someone lowered his voice and gave a two-word command, the voice was very thin, "Go up." Sleeping drowsily, Sarah sat up, imagining her mother sitting in the stairlift, rising with a whoosh, and landing on the stairs on the second floor, with her mouth curled up, looking domineering. She needed an answer: How did they come up with such a care plan?Why is Sarah never at home to help her bath?Why didn't Bishop Geoffrey preside over her funeral?

absurd. She lifted the duvet, flung her legs off, and tried to stand up with her feet on the ground, but her limp knees didn't listen, she shook a few times, and then fell back on the bed, her body bouncing up indecently. It annoyed her to realize that she was defenseless because she was at home.Sarah has been to many strange places, scary places, and has always remained alert and calm.She always scouted out the safe passage on the way in, and was in control of the situation both upon arrival and during her stay, but here she was defenseless. It was different from those strange rooms because here she was a normal head of the household and she could call the police and have them come to her.

She breathed a sigh of relief, turned awkwardly sideways, and reached for the handbag beside the bed.She fumbled nervously in her handbag, a pack of tissues, a dozen receipts, a passport tight against the cold metal back of her iPhone.She shoved these things aside, took out her phone, flipped the home switch, and was delighted to see the screen light up immediately.She had switched on her phone ever since she arrived at Glasgow Airport, waiting in the first-class aisle to disembark, and has kept it on.She wasn't always like that.Sometimes she would turn off the phone for 24 hours straight, and then turn it on again until she got enough sleep.Now her hands are concentrated on the screen, she slides the screen to unlock, selects the keyboard, and eagerly presses the three numbers 999. Just after she presses "Call", she hears a strange sound from the bedroom door.

It was not so much a sound as it was a feeling. She felt the air suddenly turn and flow at the stairway. A person's body brushed against the wall next to the door. The cat went down, and she shivered in horror. , as if cold fingers across the naked back. In a panic, she threw the phone under the duvet and stood up. The door creaked open. Not the spirit of her mother, but two teenage boys, slow and clumsy.They wore baggy black jogging trousers with matching T-shirts turned inside out, with long seams running down the arms and down the legs.They're also wearing the same black sneakers, an oddly consistent look that makes them look like members of a cult.

They began to move a few steps tentatively, occupying the doorway.Take your time, confident and adventurous child. She breathed a sigh of relief and almost laughed out loud, "What are you doing here?" One of the boys was tall, with a shaved head, and he couldn't see her because he was standing close to the door. After hearing the voice inside, he moved his body a little uneasily, with one shoulder turned outward, as if he was about to leave at any time. "Listen," she said, "get out, this isn't an empty house that no one lives in." The other boy had long, thick black hair and didn't seem to be holding back.He was standing against the door frame with an angry look on his face, looking straight into her face.

Sarah knew she wasn't very pretty, but she was well groomed and maintained, with a slender figure and stylish hair, and in the soft lighting some might find her attractive.But the boy didn't think so, he hated her image. The tall boy elbowed his companion.Still staring at her face, the angry boy raised his chin and ordered the tall man into the room.The tall man became timid and shook his head slightly.They continued to communicate with gestures, and the angry boy stared into her eyes with a look of hatred. "My mother is dead," she repeated, but her voice trailed off as it dawned on her that they weren't surprised to find her here, "I'm alive..."

"Where are your children?" asked the angry boy. "children?" "You have kids." He seemed quite sure. "No..." she said, "I don't have any kids yet." "You have, you fucking sure have!" He glanced around the room as if her baby might be hidden under the duvet, or even a closet or under the bed. His voice was high, the one from the stairwell, but what she noticed was his accent: it wasn't from Glasgow, it wasn't West Coast at all, and he couldn't be mild and neutral. Scotland's native children.His voice sounded East Coast, but certainly English, maybe Edinburgh or London.They came here, obviously not by accident, they came here on purpose.She was suddenly confused and didn't understand what they were trying to do.

Sarah tentatively said again: "You went to the wrong house." But he looked at her and said firmly, "No, I didn't." money.They must be here for the money.It was the only thing they could possibly want in this house.But the cash is in the kitchen, and the room is upstairs, and to get here, you have to climb a floor, go through a hall, go down a corridor, and go through a door.Obviously, they came here to find her. She regained a little confidence and looked at them again.They won't get the money.She won't say anything, she's going to play dumb because the police will come and take them and interrogate them.She just needs to sound innocent.

"Listen," she tried to make a reasonable suggestion, "you better leave now. I called the police a minute ago. The police are coming. If you don't leave, you will be in big trouble." The angry boy stared into her eyes while shifting his weight to one leg, sliding one foot into the room, the toes already touching the edge of the yellow Persian rug, slowly invading the sacred middle ground between the two sides.He saw her tense up, looking at him in horror.She caught a gleam of sympathy in his face, but like a fleeting spark, his face quickly darkened.He raised his chin provocatively, and moved his feet again, little by little, until he completely stepped on the fringe edge of the carpet, as if to tell her that he could jump over and he would come over. Fueled by anger, she came wide awake and decided to seize control, "I know what you guys want to do!" She walked towards him, waving a hand towards the stairs, "You don't know who you're playing with, you Picked the wrong person!" "Shut up!" The angry boy bared his teeth, "Go back!" He took a firm step towards her, and grinned grimly, his teeth appear very dry. Sarah stepped back on the bed, and she could see the corner of her phone under the duvet, as if she was peeking at it all, curling her fingers like a shooter rehearsing. His eyes slid off her face, wandered over her, down the T-shirt to her thighs, and he looked away suddenly in disgust, looking away.Only then did she realize that she was not wearing underwear.She was so tired when she came in, she casually took off her shoes, left them in the hall, staggered up the stairs, and dropped her skirt and panties on the bedroom floor.She wore the 1st T-shirt she slept in, barely reaching her thighs, barely covering her face.She hadn't slept for 24 hours, she was in pain, her mother was dead, she deserved a good night's sleep. She shouted at the top of her voice, "Get out of here, right now!" The tall one flinched, but the angry boy didn't even bat an eye, he raised his jaw as if to open his mouth to bite her.It wasn't just anger, there was a deep sadness in it, and she suddenly recognized the face. "Who are you?" she said, "I know you." Tall boy stunned, terrified, looking at angry companion. "I must know you." Although she wasn't quite sure: the memory was trivial and vague, as if he was someone on TV or in the newspaper, "I've seen your picture." The angry boy blushed and his tongue was trembling with excitement, "Photo? Have you seen my photo?" She shrugged uneasily, seeing him clenching his fists. He raised his fist and beat his heart hard, "Who the hell showed you my picture?" His voice cracked in the high register, and the tall boy jerked his hand out, pulling his fist away from his chest and pulling him back, "Stop, stop, buddy, take a breath, take a deep breath. " Sarah glanced furtively at her phone, looking for glimmers of hope, but there were none. He was still in a state of dismay, "There is the handbag! Take her mobile phone!" The angry boy looked at the floor at her feet, his blush fading and turning pale.The tall boy let go of his hand, followed his line of sight, stepped forward with his long legs, took two random steps, and stood between the two of them, occupying the precious distance between them.He crouched at her feet, fumbling in her favorite handbag.He was only a foot away from her lap, and he felt faint as Sarah spread her legs, revealing her private parts. But the angry boy was unmoved, and he yelled sharply, "Squick! Fuck it!" The boy squatting on the ground struggled to look away, and withdrew his hand from the bag, holding a mobile phone.It was a brick-like mobile phone, the kind only used by pensioners. The red plastic body was covered with big buttons, and the small screen was a picture of a palm tree, but it was impressive. What is puzzling is that the phone is off because the screen has no light and it is clearly a fake phone.Sarah was upset to realize that she had forgotten about it.She keeps forgetting about this thing, she could have used it. The boy held the phone above his head so his companion by the door could see it.The angry boy's face twitched, "What else?" The squatting boy put the Brick mobile phone into his pocket, reached into his handbag again, and found the wallet. He seemed very happy, stood up, and held up the wallet triumphantly. Sarah was relieved and almost laughed, "Do you want money?" But they all focused on the wallet, and the tall one retreated to his fat companion, still holding the wallet aloft.She thought: They're just like those muggers, just silly kids who like to wear their clothes inside out, and they must have hidden their school badges. She saw the angry boy yank the zipper of his wallet.She knew that nose, short nose bridge, wide nostrils, round nostrils, she was very familiar with it.She guessed: "I know your father." She guessed it right: he hesitated for a moment as he yanked at the zipper.Then she said even louder: "I know your father." The tall boy looked at her in panic, then at his angry companion, she raised her voice again, "You'd better get out of here now, if I tell him you robbed, what do you think he will say?" A daddy, this could be anyone, a whimpering daddy, a strong daddy, or a poor drunk daddy.Maybe Lars decided not to trust her anymore and wanted things back. "Lars?" she blurted out.Angry boy looking distressed and hurt. For a moment she thought he was going to drop the wallet, give it back to her, apologize to her, and back out; for a moment, she held her breath and her blood seemed to stop flowing.Bit Lars, the defeated and grieved Lars despised her, but needed her, never needed anyone but her.He wouldn't hesitate to kill her as long as it was right for him, but it wasn't right.These children were not sent by Lars. The angry boy looked at her with the same deep pain in his eyes.His eyelids drooped in disgust.He kept looking at her as his fingers fumbled savagely in the wallet, his index and middle fingers scissors-like between several bills and a taxi ticket, and pulled them out. Sarah took the opportunity and pounced on her iPhone.She turned sideways and her fingers touched the cold metal of the phone, and she held it tightly because she knew it would slip out of her hand easily.She raised her phone, poked at the main menu button, and tried to slide the screen to unlock, but failed twice. "Police! Help me! Two boys broke into the house!" The angry boy was next to her, he grabbed her hand clutching the phone and pulled her upright, but Sarah continued to shout: " Right in my bedroom, a fat man, I know him!" They all froze, looking at their phones, wondering if they'd been heard, and suddenly realizing that there had always been an audience in this scene.The angry boy was the first to react. He twisted the phone in her hand, slowly raised it to his ear, and listened carefully. With a smug smile on his face, he poked at the phone screen and threw it on the bed. They stood close together at the head of the bed, a thick mass of hatred gathering under the rambling shell of the house. Behind her the tall man shifted his steps, moving closer to her until his breath ruffled her hair.She felt a damp breath on her ears.The angry boy read sadness on her face, and she saw the raging anger in the angry boy's eyes. The sound of breathing behind her shoulder became faster and weaker. Once, in a hotel in Dubai, Sarah met such a client, he was a big fat man, and they had dinner together.She remembered how sad, hopeless, and aloof he was, and though she tried to talk to him, he remained silent throughout the meal, just drinking heavily.In the elevator back to the room, she silently recited what she wanted to say: Sometimes this kind of thing can happen to everyone, isn't it good to touch and chat?Next time they can take pills if he feels the need.In bed, lying face down on the pillow at command, she heard the same breath behind her, suddenly quickened and animal-like; she turned to catch a glimpse of a metallic glint in his hand.She kicked him off the bed, grabbed his clothes, and ran.She managed to get away because he was too fat to catch up. "I have money." She said into the air. "Money?" said the angry boy calmly, "You think it's for money?" "Why is that?" she yelled, hoping it would scare them off. "What the hell are you trying to do? This is my home!" But neither backed down, and the angry boy met her eyes. She cried and stretched out her hand to plead, "Have I done anything to be sorry to you? I'll tell you, tell me, I'll tell you." He casually looked away and looked around the room with an air of indifference. Sarah suddenly understood: the reason he wasn't afraid of her remembering his face was because he had come here to kill her.She will never leave here. She can't die here, in this cold, dilapidated old house, this place she's been trying to escape her whole life, she can't die naked at the hands of two crazy children, in this room that was once her childhood cradle inside. With tears in her eyes, she looked at the gap between them and the open door not far away. Sarah put her head down and ran away.