Chap 7: [AHOE] - Doctor (4)

- I just don't understand, what is it that incited her, to turn me off to kill me?

He must have hidden the existence of the other fetus from her, I thought to myself, if she knew, how perfect would the story be?

She guessed correctly, she did not know the existence of the fetus, so she murdered her own child. I suddenly had the malicious thought to let her know, to see a little bit of her true feelings, if she had any.

But at that moment, I suddenly remembered the cry that echoed the first night I met her. So it was she who cried. Even though the other fetus belonged to the person she loved with the personality that had taken over her body, in her deepest sleep, she still cried with such heartbreaking pain.

 I had a bit of a lump in my throat, had to tilt my head to adjust my emotions. Unexpectedly when I looked up, I suddenly realized that she was looking up at me. I don't know what my expression was at that time, but she seemed surprised. Perhaps I am expressing irony, or profoundness too clearly?

- She doesn't want to sway you, or kill you, she just wants to stay away from you. – I replied.

- I know she was your patient before. But she is a doctor, can't be subjective, can't favor her… – She hesitated.

- Sorry for not telling you in advance, I will not charge for this talk, so you are not my patient, nor do I need to be a doctor with you. If you really want to talk to a doctor, I can refer you to a colleague.

She seemed confused by my decisive attitude, saying:

- I don't understand... Obviously you rejected her, if you've determined the truth, why treat me like this?

- I don't dismiss her, she wants to leave on her own.

- Huh?

- She volunteered to leave, to fulfill the two of you.

- I don't believe! She wanted to kill me!

- ...

- Doctor, you, like me at that time, were deceived! You don't know how scary her real face is! … I know, it was because she knew she would definitely be eliminated, so she unleashed her final humiliation, making you believe her! Her voice trembled, her face was a little frightened, the corners of her eyes were watery, and she looked even more weak. But I suddenly felt disgusted, did not want to see that figure any more, said:

"You probably don't understand, if you don't volunteer, outsiders can't carry out depersonalization."

- I don't know the exact reason, but she's very good at acting!

And you're not good at all, I thought.

- Okay, you go home, I won't interfere in your story, you convince your husband yourself, don't come and find me. - I said impatiently.

- Miss!!!

She seemed to have lost her mind, straightened up, pulled off her slippery skirt, revealing keloid scars and shocking white dimples, screaming:

- Look! Look at these wounds! Do you think I did it all by myself?

But this move of hers was too wrong, pushing me further away. She didn't know, she came to me while the wound was still bandaged. If you saw it then, how shocking would it be? But she never showed it in front of my eyes. Nor has he ever complained of pain, displayed suffering to get love. She doesn't understand the horrible experience of sharing the one you love with another woman she's going through too. She doesn't understand why she has to make excuses to avoid, why she never sings her heart out, clinging to the pity of others. Because she wasn't the type who would quietly hide away out of fear of disturbing others, quietly licking her own pain.

I suddenly remembered the question she asked me that year, "Doctor, tell me, in the end, I am different from her?". I couldn't answer that year, but now I know. Other. Except for the looks, everything is different. I lost my temper and bellowed:

- Surely it's not her, it's not you, then it's the devil?

- That's right...

I turned pale.

It was another voice.

No, it cannot be said to be a voice. Just a sound.

A long, horrible sound.

Her expression slowly turned into a distorted expression that sent chills down the spine:

- Thanks to that, I have already killed one. And this one, do you want to keep it, doctor?

I staggered and sat down on the chair.

"I don't know if his wife is still there?", suddenly the question of the other senior echoed in my head.

Is she still there?

Ruo Fan, tell me, is there really a demon in the middle that separates the two, or is that evil spirit tricking me?

Should I protect the rest of her soul from the demon in today's story, or should I not fall for the devil's machinations in that day's story?

Ruo Pham! Ruo Pham! After all, who is telling the truth?

- It's all three...

The sound that seemed to come from the other hell resounded, along with a dark, ghostly laugh.

- Oh, forgot... She said earlier, if you don't volunteer, outsiders can't proceed to remove a personality.

That's it, don't worry about what to do, it won't help anyway.

The demon glared at me, chuckling. My world goes round and round.

I don't understand. Really don't understand. Not just saying split half, why is there another personality?

- I'm not a personality. Nor is it part of the soul. Resentment in the depths of their consciousness has invited me to come.

A deep, melodious voice like an ancient theater song resounded.

Another voice.

Her face seemed to have removed the horror expression from earlier, gradually sinking into a mist, now constantly changing between countless facial expressions, sometimes like a faceless face that could not see the five senses clearly. Vanity, virtual, natural change.

The blood in my body seemed to have been released from a dam somewhere, in an instant it ran dry, and my tendons and muscles contracted violently.

After all, what the hell is going on?

I heard my trembling voice ask:

- Who are you?

- I am the Holy Spirit, also the Devil, the Good and the Evil, the darkness and the light, the life-saving straw and the deadly trap. I was born from the heart to destroy the heart, came from humanity to destroy humanity, Nostalgia.

- Human, don't be afraid. I come to you with a choice. Tell me, you will believe in my existence, protect the other half of my soul; Or will you doubt me, leaving her life and death?

In front of the penetrating eyes of "Victory", I was like a child with something to hide, pretending to be absentminded to buy time.

Time seemed to stretch forever, each ticking of the clock was like a knock on my heart. But I still have no answer.

- Human, can't you choose?

Suddenly, above my head came a question, then a long laugh. And almost at the same time, a gust of wind came and shook the doorframe, clattering, bringing with it a thousand voices. They sing in unison in a voice full of resentment that shocks people:

 - OH. OH. I am the cruel executioner who is controlled by the hearts of people, and the innocent one who is held in the hearts of people. I hate the endless bondage, trying to give humanity one after another the key to the heart, and if only one person will stop opening the prison door, I can return to sleep peacefully in the arms. the comfort of the Void.

- OH. OH. I dig a bed in the garden of the soul, sow the sweet seed of Hope, but always reap the dry fruit of Desire; Planting green branches of Trust, but having to pick withered flowers of Doubt.

- Giving you so many opportunities, only to receive so many disappointments in return.

- Human, you too. Instead of choosing to believe in the other half of the soul, choose to doubt our existence. Instead of choosing to hope that the other person is still here, choose to be blinded by the desires of prejudice and malice.”

Then the voices and the wind died as suddenly as it had begun. I slowly let go of the hand that was covering it, raised my head, to see him sitting in a chair, his expression gradually stopped shaking, and a face appeared. Something in my head fell apart. I seem to forget my new terror, rush to shake him:

- Hope! Hopeful Thoughts! Tell me, out of the two of them, which one is the resentment that called you here?

CHECK!

I woke up startled, discovered that in the empty room, the recording pen had fallen to the ground.

I picked it up, shivered, and opened it.

- Surely it's not her, it's not you, then it's the devil?

After this angry statement from me and the sound of her leaving the door, there was only a long silence.

Until the "Crack!" of the pen that fell to the ground earlier.

It turned out to be a midsummer dream, a midday dream.

Only thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes of silence seemed to contain eternal silence.