At that moment, I suddenly felt like I was missing something. This feeling made me panic, and I quickly stabilized myself. I approached the execution bed and saw a body in a suit lying on it. His hands, feet and neck had been safely secured.
The straps were fixed and the eyes seemed to be closed.
I couldn't think too much, so I quickly stuck the medicine tube into the syringe, grabbed the soft strap and tied it around the outstretched arm, then searched it and found a bulging vein. I picked up the catheter needle and aimed it at the vein.
It stabbed in. The sting caused the closed eyes to pop open, and their soft eyes looked over and stayed on my face.
I couldn't avoid that gaze, so I had to stare straight at him. I saw that his eyes were empty, without any content. After a few seconds, the man sighed softly and looked away.
When I got to the syringe pump, I made a hoarse voice: How many more minutes do I have?
I calmed down and said calmly: Close your eyes, you will fall asleep soon.
Sure enough, the man closed his eyes, but did not stop his hoarse voice. He said one thing and another, with dryness and urgency in his voice.
People always think of things they think are important at the last moment. I thought so at the time. But I couldn’t delay it any longer. I made a ready gesture towards the control room, and the execution command came to my ears immediately.
Order.
I reached out and pressed the syringe pump, and the medicine began to slowly enter the vein. The man's eyes moved and seemed to pop open, but in vain. He soon seemed quiet and relaxed. The brain waves on the monitor changed.
formed several parallel straight lines.
I moved my body. Before the forensic doctor and my teammates came in, I couldn't help but take another look at the sleeping face. I found that there was a teardrop in the corner of the face. The teardrop was a bit small, as if it had no time to change.
It stopped growing.
I returned to the office, feeling very calm. I took off my white coat, took off my hat, and let my hair down. My colleagues came to see me, but they didn’t ask me anything, because my eyes told them: the situation is normal, this is
It's not a big deal.
In the following time, I surfed the Internet, made phone calls, and chatted with my companions as usual. I went to the canteen for lunch at noon, and I didn't feel hungry at all.
But I really wanted to do something by myself. I gave myself a day off in the afternoon and went shopping alone. I walked to the pedestrian street and visited one store after another, including electrical appliances, watches, clothing, sports goods, and children's paradise.
I didn’t want to leave that one behind. In fact, I didn’t want to buy anything. I just thought it would be refreshing to walk around in a busy place. Later, in a clothing store, I took a fancy to a kind of socks embroidered with small animals. For the whole
For people who wear police uniforms, socks are the only thing that can be used for decoration. I spent money to buy six pairs. I felt that it was not enough, so I bought another six pairs, making a full dozen. This dozen of socks made me loose.
With my mind settled, it seemed as if my afternoon shopping had come to an end.
This feeling of relief accompanied me when I returned to my single dormitory to eat and watch TV, and when I got into bed. Before going to bed, I heard myself muttering: Today is finally over.
But the day is not over, because the day still includes sleep. In the middle of the night, I had a random dream and woke myself up. After waking up for a while, I could no longer grasp the content of the dream, but the scene during the day seemed to have changed.
The distance was getting closer and closer, and I was close to my eyes. I remembered that face, the soft eyes, and then the hoarse voice coming from the mouth. Of course, there was also myself and the hoarse voice.
of conversation.
Human memory is like this. It takes a while and a quiet moment in the middle of the night before we can dig out the important plot.
I remember the hoarse voice said first: How many minutes do I have?
I said: Close your eyes, you will fall asleep soon.
The man closed his eyes obediently, but still made a sound from his mouth: Can you do me a favor?
I was surprised at that time and asked him: What happened?
The hoarse voice said: Send a message...send a message to my mother, saying that I am sorry for her.
I was stunned for a moment and had to continue: Why did you ask me to take you with you?
The hoarse voice answered vaguely: Because now...I think of my mother.
Then I couldn't delay any longer and raised my hand to the control room to ask for instructions.
In the darkness of the night, I still couldn't help asking that question: Why did you ask me to carry him? I don't know him, nor his mother. I just followed the instructions and became the person he saw before his death.
As the last person, do I have to take on this job just because I am going to do it? Am I still unable to call it a day after a job is done? Maybe I should ignore it and forget about my hoarse voice. But the problem is, I can do this during the day,
But there is something I can't avoid at night. That is to say, at the end of the day, a hoarse voice is waiting for me stubbornly.
I sat up from the bed and hugged my legs with my arms. I thought that he could entrust that sentence to any relative or friend when he visited, or he could write a letter and leave what he wanted to say on paper.
, but he didn't do that. Obviously, a person who would kill someone for his girlfriend must always have his girlfriend in his mind. Only at the end of his life did he remember the person he should remember most.
In this way, for him, he finally has not forgotten his mother. For me, it is really...
The next morning, I went to the archives to retrieve Ye Qiang's murder case file. I skipped the shooting history, criminal psychology, girlfriend's narrative and other records, and went directly to find the family situation in it. After scribbling for a while, I couldn't find it. I had to
Returning to the beginning of the volume, he scrolled down carefully, and finally saw the detailed address of his place of birth on a registration form. That place was a bit far away, and it was a small town.
Then I saw a self-narration about his family in his confession, which contained this passage:
No matter how hard I dig, I can’t find the root of my crime from my parents. When I was very young, my father loved fishing. One time while pulling a big fish, he fell into the river and drowned. It was my mother who raised me single-handedly.
My mother was a factory worker. After the factory collapsed, she opened a stationery store in front of an elementary school. This stationery store has been open for many years and is still open today. My middle school and college tuition fees came from here.
I earned it from a stationery store. My mother didn’t push me to do anything when I was little, and she never put too much pressure on me. In my mother’s eyes, I have always been a sensible son. I chose a major in college and found a job after graduation.
I did all the work myself, without letting my mother worry about it. My mother is a Buddhist. From the perspective of family education, she did not plant germs that invade others in my heart. The murder I committed was my own fault.
The debt caused by love. If there is anything wrong with my mother, it is that she allowed my son to go so far and let me stay in this city hundreds of kilometers away from my hometown, because these few hundred kilometers, my mother was killing someone when I
Nothing can stop me.
I read this passage and chewed it again. After reading and chewing it, I felt a little empty in my heart. This emptiness seemed empty and lingering, which made people uncomfortable. Fortunately, I caught up again in the next two days.
Busy. One of the things took a lot of time. After finishing it, it was already dark. We all went to a restaurant for dinner and we drank some wine.
After dinner, I took a taxi home. I stopped the car when I was halfway there. I didn’t want to go back to the dormitory right away. I wanted to take a walk alone. It was a noisy time on the street, and the neon lights flickered on and off.
The ground was lively, with cars squeezing in and out, and casual or anxious passers-by walking on the sidewalk. I don’t know why, although I drank, I felt that I didn’t need such excitement. I walked in a daze.
Then I turned into an alley. It was much quieter inside the alley. The lights and tall buildings seemed to be left outside all of a sudden. The smell of flowers, grass, green bricks and sadness entered my nose. When I walked to the narrow part of the alley, I used my hands to
I lifted my hair and raised my head, and I saw a long and narrow strip of night sky. There were no stars in the night sky, but there happened to be a half-curved moon. I raised my head and looked at the moon, and suddenly I felt a little pain in my heart. I almost died.