Adam turned the diary to the back.

I sat back on the bed. There was a dirty mirror next to the toilet at the foot of the bed, which was not very shiny. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was still my albino skin and hair. The bluish-red blood vessels were shallowly buried under the skin. My eyes were shining in the dark. It looked like a lunatic when I looked so fuzzy.

So I simply emptied my mind and lay on the hard bed to sleep.

The confinement of Yvonne and I ended in the evening, of course because I threatened the caregiver again.

In the cafeteria we went to together, the little girl had calmed down and became the quiet, thin girl again.

I rubbed her tangled curly hair and she bared her teeth at me.

It is good to be feared. For example, I have a unique candy from the cafeteria on my plate.

Said to be unique is actually just the cheapest inferior fruit hard candy sold out.

But in Arkham, this is a high-end snack.

So those lunatics were not afraid of me anymore, and a lot of them had been taken away before I noticed.

Yvonne and Dom's mouths were bulging, and they were chewing on my candy. I felt heartache, and hurriedly guarded my dinner plate.

Nibbing on the dry bread, I asked Yvonne: "Why is your doll so important?"

"Huh?" The little girl's eyes were confused. Dom followed dumbly.

Yvonne thought for a long time before saying intermittently: "Then...that woman...she always pierced me secretly, and then gave my blood...give me money? Then I injected...shot...needle. ·····Illusions. So I...I just took advantage of her...she was hallucinating...cut...cut her. I tucked her hair in and stuffed it in the doll..."

When she said this, she reacted and yelled at me: "Doll! Doll! Grace! They took my doll!!"

The breadcrumbs in her mouth spurted out, and there were tears in her eyes: "Baby!!!!"

I suddenly felt very sad. I guess she still longed for the company of that woman. It was not the doll that she really wanted to shout, but the mother.

She used the doll as a substitute for her mother, and withered in this white cage with her!

I couldn't bear to see the little girl crying poorly there, so I grabbed the remaining candy and stuffed her with it, "Yvonne, don't cry. I promise you will see your baby tonight! Come, eat candy! "

"That's fine." The little girl stopped crying immediately after receiving the candy, or she was taken back before her tears came out.

It took a long time for me to realize that the guy was lying to me. I feel angry and funny, but very distressed. Who said that lunatics just need to be stupid? They think they can be smarter than anyone else.

The little girl saw my expression and thought I was distressed by the candy, so she threw a candy into my plate with a distressed look.

I really laughed this time.

Throwing the sugar into her mouth as she did, chewing it creakingly.

So she felt even more distressed, guarding the last few candies, and refused to eat anymore.

Adam closed the diary and finally found what he was looking for, the doll.

The headless body of the clown was lying on the floor, Adam with a bulging chest took a look, and a doll was stuffed into the chest of the clown.

This doll exudes an inexplicable breath, weird and terrifying.

Adam closed his eyes and carefully felt the doll. There are countless horrible spirits on the doll. Maybe something happened in the former Arkham Asylum?

Adam turned the diary to the last page, and he could see that there was another person who wrote the diary.

I was born in the most chaotic neighborhood of Gotham.

Who is my dad and whether he is alive or dead even my mom doesn't know.

Maybe I'm just the wrong product of my mother taking medicine.

She is a lion trainer in a circus troupe and a girl who stands on the street.

My mother is a lunatic, or, according to Grace, she is a walking dead.

Her soul had already flown away, and only an empty shell was left drunk and dreaming in this filthy world.

I think, my life, my existence may be the thing she cares about most in her life.

My value to her is no different from a wad of waste paper or a small bottle cap, except to stop her from being harassed by the boss.

She is drunk most of the time, but awake only a few times.

She was quite normal when she was sober, she would scold me frying eggs, or bring some roast chicken and beer from someone. She was crazy when she was drunk, sometimes treating me as her guests, and sometimes treating me as her addicted gentleman friend.

But no matter what she is, I love her. Because she is my mother.

Don't underestimate the word mother, okay.

Whether it's a madman like me or a superhero, mom is special.

Especially in the eyes of children, mothers are God.

So when she was crazy again, I ended her life, she walked very peacefully, very happy, and she called my son for the first time.

I also helped her kill the disgusting class owner and gave her the first big hemp bastard... I started putting on fancy clothes, dyed my hair, and determined to be a clown.

Because the Joker is the only one sober among those fifty-three playing cards.

I began to wonder who built this city?

Who stipulated that there should be rich areas and slums?

Who maintains balance and order?

Those who live in this city turn a blind eye to these problems. They go to get off work and get off work, get drunk in a bar, and continue the next day.

Day by day, year by year, week after week.

I started asking my group of friends, and their answers were the same, "Hey, are you crazy?"

"Who cares about this, it's definitely not something we can manage anyway."

"Brother, are you short of alcohol?"

"Hey, he's crazy."

So I learned that I might be the only one thinking about these issues, the only one sober.

And since I can't wake them up, it's better to break these balances.

After the order collapses, the protagonist behind the scenes will appear, and then the truth will come to light. Just like if the rabbit crawls out of the hat, the magician will definitely appear, put it back in the hat, and prepare for the following performance...

Then I came to the Arkham Asylum. I have rarely heard of it before.

It is in a remote suburb, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It holds a bunch of lunatics.

But when I really arrived at Arkham, I discovered that it completely subverted my worldview.

I became an Arkham, I am used to Arkham.

Something that can't kill you will make you weird, but habit, it is also a scary thing, it will make you a willing fool.

I have been assimilated by Arkham and integrated with the people here.

I also saw a woman I will never forget—Grace Ackerman~lightnovelpub.net~ At first sight, she was standing in the crowd, but she was out of place.

Not only because of her charming charm, but also because of her complexion.

She may have had albinism before, and no part of her hair or skin is not white.

So I approached her and saw her face clearly.

She is not good-looking, at best she is pretty, but her temperament is that there is a magical power that can make people ignore her appearance and look directly at her soul.

So if she insists on classification, she will definitely be classified into the category of beauty, no, she will have to be higher.

Because those empty-looking women standing next to her would only look like a straw bag.

There are a lot of good-looking ones, and too few ones with souls.

But then I really realized what is femme fatale.

Grace Ackerman is such a bad guy.

But she has always adhered to the traditions of the older generation.

Finally, me and her...

The diary ends here. The contents in the diary are not complete, but they also told Adam who its owner was.

(End of this chapter)