Chapter 634 The Murderer and the Redeemer

After the middle-aged woman hung up the phone, she walked towards the ground, as if there was an emergency.

After the middle-aged woman left, Han Fei looked deep into the ground floor with his bag on his back.

The rooms on the basement floor seem to have been bought by someone, and the owner must be a lunatic. He wrote all kinds of words on the walls that are incomprehensible to ordinary people, full of destruction and despair.

While reading the words, Han Fei groped deeper.

The smell of formalin in the air gradually became stronger, and there were more and more blood stains on the ground. This basement, which looked like a murder scene, gave Han Fei an indescribable sense of familiarity.

"As an actor or screenwriter, why do I know the smell of formalin? Why am I more familiar with the murder scene?"

Thinking of the stories he wrote in the script, Han Fei felt even more confused: "What kind of person am I?"

Carefully avoiding the blood stains on the ground, normal people will definitely feel scared and flustered when encountering such a scene.

But Han Fei, as a mental patient suffering from persecution delusions, entered such a **** scene, not only did he not fall ill, but his breathing gradually became smoother.

He felt like a twisted combination of contradictions, the more he investigated, the more confused he became.

"I have no memory of my parents disposing of the corpses underground and then transporting them out... That doctor Fu said that there have been a lot of unnamed corpses in this city recently, and the person who claimed to be my father happened to be a very Excellent forensic doctor."

"Could it be that my father and mother are perverted killers? I lost my memory because I accidentally saw the scene where they killed people?"

"Or, they have been feeding me medicine, causing me to forget the past? Becoming a muddleheaded patient?"

No matter how you look at it, this home is extremely terrifying.

"I actually live with a murderer couple, and they may not necessarily be my parents!"

Han Fei didn't have the concept of parents at all, and he couldn't even find a starting point for his memories.

With various thoughts floating in his mind, Han Fei walked through the blood stains and came to the last room on the basement floor.

The door of the room was locked. If you look carefully, you will find that there is still blood seeping from the crack of the door.

"The blood has solidified. The blood was left by the mother who cleaned up the blood stains in the gap. It seems that the first crime scene should be in this room." Staring at the blood on the ground, Han Fei muttered: "The gap The blood stains in the body cannot be washed with water, this will wash away the blood stains containing the victim's information, it should be collected little by little, and then use chemicals..."

Han Fei was taken aback by the thoughts in his mind: "Why do I know how to handle corpses?"

He lost all his memory, but his body's instincts are still there, but sometimes this instinct is very strange.

"Because I'm a screenwriter, I'm going to look up stuff like that?"

Han Fei put his clothes on and gently pulled the iron door. Finally, the door of this room was locked and could not be opened.

"Leaving this time, I probably won't return to this horrible home. Before leaving, I must clarify these things."

Looking around, Han Fei found a very thin wire, bent it into a suitable shape, and stuffed it into the keyhole.

Originally, Han Fei just wanted to try it, but when he leaned against the lock cylinder and listened to the sound inside, his hands and brain cooperated very tacitly, as if unlocking was originally one of his skills.

With the spring spring, the dilapidated iron door on the basement floor was directly opened by him.

Looking at the iron door that was opened, Han Fei felt incredible. He had mastered an ability that most screenwriters did not know.

Looking into the house, the scene in front of him had a great impact on Han Fei.

There was a wooden table in the dark and depressing room. A lot of manuscript paper and various pens were scattered on the wooden table, and the bottom of the wooden table was soaked in blood.

There are three shelves behind the wooden table, one shelf is full of books, the other shelf is full of various specimen jars, and the last shelf is full of various killing tools, such as handaxes and daggers , ropes, and various medicines.

The wall directly in front of the wooden table was not painted, but the surface of the wall skin was splashed with huge blood flowers, as if someone was killed there.

"Is this the devil's room? The desk is facing the blood-splattered wall. The owner of the house is writing while looking at the victim's body?"

The murder scene had been severely damaged, and the pungent smell of formalin and an inexplicable stench remained in the air.

Han Fei walked forward slowly, and he realized something terrible. His body was already used to the pungent smell.

When a normal person smells these things for the first time, he will instinctively feel uncomfortable and even vomit, but he just frowned, which shows that he probably smelled these things often before he lost his memory!

"Why do I get used to it?"

Walking to the desk, Han Fei picked up the unfinished script on the desk with his sleeves padded.

"The sixth story—the tenant, the woman moved in in July. Her belly grew bigger day by day, and her mood became more and more unstable. She was irritable and quarreled with people every night. Sometimes I also I'm curious, why does she always quarrel with people at night even though she lives alone on the sixth floor?"

"The second time I saw her was a month later. She was in a poor state of mind and didn't want to take the elevator. She walked up and down the stairs with a big belly every day, always swearing something in her mouth."

"She refused to associate with anyone, and everyone in the community thought she was sick, so they gradually ignored her."

"Women quarrel louder at night, but no one knows who she is arguing with. Many people speculate that she is arguing with the man who abandoned her on the phone, but I feel that things are not that simple."

"The third time I met her was the day before she died."

"That night I wanted to go downstairs to buy a pack of cigarettes. When I passed the sixth floor, I heard movement in her home."

"I stayed at the entrance of the corridor for a while, and the woman who hadn't gone out for a long time slowly crawled out of the room. Her face was thin and skinny, she kept swearing, and her neck was shriveled as if there were only two skins left."

"As she slowly crawled out, I couldn't believe my eyes, I saw the woman's bulging belly."

"This woman is not pregnant, what is hidden in her belly is not a human being."

The complete version of the script was on the desk, but Han Fei felt that there was still a follow-up to the script. He glanced at the blood stains all over the floor: "How did he know that the person hidden in her stomach was not a human being?"

Gently putting down the script, Han Fei's heart was wrapped in a chill. He saw the first half of the script in his room, and now the second half appeared on the desk. Does that mean that the original owner of this room was him?

Thinking carefully, Han Fei's heart was about to jump out of his chest, and the blood vessels on his forehead were bulging.

"Is there such a possibility?"

Being familiar with the smell of formalin and corpses, knowing how to pick locks and handling corpses, seeing those knives on the shelves, and even having the urge to grab them and wave them all seemed to indicate one thing.

"Is the murderer actually me? Are the couple helping me dispose of the corpse?"

Han Fei had no previous memories, and he couldn't recall his past identity, but his keen insight and amazing physical instincts were still there.

Destroying corpses and eradicating traces is a very difficult task. It takes a long time for ordinary people to figure out the steps just by thinking about it. But when he saw the blood stains, he automatically simulated various methods to wash away the evidence in his mind. .

"It's not like it's the first time to do it skillfully. I, the murderer of the serial death case?"

Carrying a bag full of scripts, Han Fei stood where he was. Nothing could have hit him more than this incident.

"But if I'm a serial killer, why is that couple disposing of the body?"

"Did they find out what I was doing long ago, using drugs to make me lose my memory step by step, and want to change me?"

"My parents helped me dispose of the dead body, so that I can have another chance to start over from scratch? From this perspective, they are really the best people in the world to me, but..."

Han Fei clenched his hand: "If I really killed someone, I'm really guilty, I'd rather be punished myself than let them do such a thing, this is what I really think in my heart at this moment .”

"Why would I do such a thing if I can have such an idea?"

Contradictions, Han Fei was in the midst of incomparable contradictions. He had forgotten that there seemed to be many souls in his mind, and everyone wanted to draw their own appearance on a blank canvas.

With his sleeves padded, Han Fei pushed open the door to the back room. He was really professional, leaving no fingerprints or shoe prints, and he walked without making any noise.

A more intense stench wafted from the back room, where some costumes were placed.

The first costume was the uniform of the orphanage. It was very worn out and had many cuts with a knife.

After searching carefully, a ball of shredded paper fell out of the shallow pocket of the clothes.

The ball of paper seemed to be torn from the script, the writing on it was distorted and blurred, completely different from the words on ordinary scripts, it looked like another person.

"At one o'clock on Monday, a child who escaped from the orphanage died. The cause of death was suffocation. I remember his face when he was dying. It was black and purple. He was still struggling until the end. Like a bird with its wings caught. I know he can never fly away from this world because someone tore his wings off."

The writing on the ball of paper was still stained with blood, as if the murderer had written it at the scene of the murder.

"Every time you kill a person, do you have to record it?"

Han Fei looked at the second piece of clothing again. It was a tattered puppet coat, which was different from the one he wore before, and was slimmer. There was also a note hidden in this piece of clothing.

"One Tuesday night, a young man was off the night shift, after a ghost-hunting carnival in the park. He wanted to take a good break from work, but he couldn't get rid of his skin. The cause of death was suffocation. I guess he I must have been very scared when I was surrounded by darkness, but I am not afraid anymore."

Putting away the note, Han Fei looked at the third piece of clothing. It was a clown coat, painted in various colors, and matched with a hat and mask.

The size of this suit is exactly the same as Han Fei's, as if it was tailor-made for him.

Raising his hand to find the note, Han Fei hadn't gotten close when the clown's mask suddenly fell to the ground.

It was a scary smiling face mask, the clown laughed so happily that he was even a little hysterical.

Finding the note behind the mask, Han Fei looked at the blood red words on it.

"Sunday nights can be very lively. I like to walk on the street alone, let everyone see my smile, and then I collect their smiles. I have always wanted to make a cure for all pain and despair. People, but it’s a pity that I haven’t even cured my own illness. Shhh, don’t look back, take a guess, the face under my mask, is it crying or laughing now?”

The last dress seems to be Han Fei's own. He always feels as if he has worn this dress and done many things in this dress~lightnovelpub.net~ People who claim to be my parents, their height The clothes and body shape don't match the clothes, so it seems even more impossible for them to be the owners of this room. "Han Fei covered his forehead: "Am I really a perverted murderer?" "

When his mind was extremely confused, what Fu Tian's mother said flashed through Han Fei's mind, and he remembered the scene when the woman saw him.

"wrong!"

Han Fei's eyes changed again: "At least in that woman's mind, I am a brave and kind person who pursues fairness and justice and is not afraid of fate. She thinks I am the best husband and father in the world. This is already what I can do." The highest compliment that can come to mind.”

These things in the room were in stark contrast to what the woman had said. Han Fei, who had lost his memory, seemed to be torn apart, half sunny and gentle, half perverted and crazy.

"Which one is the real me?"

Unable to remember the past, Han Fei, who has lost his memory, needs to redefine himself, whether he is a perverted murderer, the real murderer of a serial murder, or a good person who was innocently implicated.

"As a living person, what should I be like?"

(end of this chapter)